“How do you deduce that he is being overt? Please, elucidate! He can no longer even meet my gaze!” Molly exclaimed at the wall. What was the source of her distress? Why did he behave in one manner and subsequently take actions that contradicted his intentions? Her chest felt as though it would explode. Was this the experience of harbouring a wolf within her?
Cordelia mentally hummed. The sound was disapproving, provoking Molly’s urge to throw something. She was unable to comprehend her own anger and was uncertain about its appropriate outlet. “Let us undertake an action for him; it may mitigate his demeanour somewhat.”
“Soften him? That is unfeasible.” Molly scoffed, ceasing her unrecognised pacing and furrowing her brows. “What were your intentions? What actions would we undertake?”
“Recall his jealousy towards Abel and how you would create items for him?”
Molly sighed in exasperation and seated herself on the couch beside the fireplace. A portion of her longed for Abel, and she felt embarrassed to acknowledge that he had not occupied her thoughts since her departure. “He exhibited no jealousy-”
“What accounts for your blindness? I genuinely wish to understand.”
“Please be direct,” Molly stated while massaging her temples. Jayce’s perpetual grumpiness may stem from his inner wolf. If it were as bothersome as her own, she comprehended entirely. Each conversation resulted in her acquiring a new headache.
“Cordelia proposed, ‘Let us prepare a treat for our friend. It will uplift his spirits.'” It was difficult to articulate, yet she perceived a hint of a smirk in her tone.
“Why do I sense that this will be a disastrous decision?” Molly lamented.
The primary kitchen in the camp resembled a typical domestic kitchen she would anticipate. The space was adequately sized and inviting; however, she conceded it was somewhat difficult to envision how the cooks could sustain the entire village from such a limited area.
They were exceptionally skilled, as there was perpetually an abundant supply of food circulating.
The room was sufficiently warm for Molly to remove her jacket within seconds of entering. An elderly man glanced at her with a raised eyebrow but remained silent as she draped her coat. The ovens were operational, yet it seemed that they were empty. It prompted her to contemplate whether they were perpetually activated, as a precautionary measure. A sizable pot on the stove brimmed with a warm soup that evoked her desire to curl up by the fire with the largest bowl available.
“Greetings, sir.” Molly advanced and extended her hand. He looked down at it before appearing to resolve to comply with her request. “I would like to enquire if I may utilise some of your ingredients and ovens to prepare a small baked item. I assure you that I will clean up after myself and replenish any items I use.”
“Oh, do you enjoy cooking?” the man enquired. He possessed a pronounced accent unfamiliar to her, yet it was charming and complemented his amiable visage.
“Indeed, I have a passion for baking. I have longed to be in the kitchen, as it has been quite some time.” Molly surveyed her surroundings, her head swirling with the array of delectable aromas. The atmosphere here was exceedingly tranquil. The palace kitchens were perpetually noisy and bustling. Finding any semblance of tranquilly there was challenging, as it was invariably accompanied by a cascade of anxiety. She was uncertain whether additional cooks assisted, but at that moment, it was solely him.
“I understand.” The elderly man folded his arms. “What are your thoughts?”
“I was contemplating something uncomplicated: a chocolate cake with frosting.” Molly tucked her hair behind her ears. “I am Molly, by the way.”
“I recognise your identity, my dear. You may refer to me as Poe.” He turned away from her to retrieve a glass bowl. “You may utilise my kitchen and ingredients under two stipulations.”
“Certainly, anything.”
“You must monitor my soup and ensure you clean up after yourself.” He turned and handed her the bowl. He smiled slightly and winked. “Remain for as long as necessary and have someone locate me upon your completion.”
“Oh! That is exceedingly gracious of you. Thank you, Poe.” Molly beamed. Poe approached the coat rack to don his jacket. This village was inhabited by exceptionally kind individuals. With each passing day, the impending departure from this location intensified her awareness of returning to her previous existence, characterised by a lack of options.
“All necessary items for confections are located in the lower cabinets,” he indicated. “Perhaps leave me a slice, would you?” he remarked with a smile.
Molly chuckled softly. “Certainly.”
After his departure, Molly rummaged through all the cabinets to retrieve the necessary items and commenced her task. Her wolf remained mute throughout, and she felt a profound exhilaration from the tranquilly. Her thoughts could become overwhelming, yet baking consistently grounded her and provided a semblance of clarity. There was no cause for concern, merely the necessity of perfecting the recipe.
She longed for those uncomplicated concerns. She was unable to refrain from recalling instances when her most significant concerns involved locating misplaced books and eliminating cobwebs from the shelves. She now feared that she might witness another murder nearly every day.
She navigated the kitchen as though it were her own. It resembled a vintage choreography as she positioned the cake pans in the ovens and twirled to tidy the disorder she had created. As she finished cleaning the counters, she began retrieving the hot pans and preparing the frosting. She positioned the heated pans by the frigid window, allowing them to cool rapidly.
