Snowy Meandering [Faine]

[Leith]

A Leith who was half in disbelief at their good fortune of getting 4 out of five rabbits sat preparing a variety of knives, utensils, and spices near the camp fire. Once she had a cast iron pot over the fire with snow melt starting to heat she turned to her rabbits. She had never actually skinned or prepared rabbit, but knew the basic principle for other small land mammals and knew of the loose skin a rabbit had. Back in her humanoid form Leith picked the rabbit up, its limp form dangling by the legs. She fussed with one of them for a moment, feeling the skin, and feeling the bone of the knee of the back leg. Pulling back on the fur so it was taut against the knee bone with one hand, she pressed hard on the bone itself, pushing the edge of the knee in an effort to pass it through the skin. After a moment of resistance the muscle and sinew popped through the skin, creating an opening. She had heard of hunters cutting the fur around the feet and yanking the skin off in one pull, and then of this method, a bit less dramatic. She continued to pull the skin away down the leg and where it tightened around ankle she gave a hard tug, pulling the fur and skin off completely, but leaving the fuzzy rabbits foot behind. She nodded and replicated this on the other side, which left a patch of skin attached to the tail between the two rents in the flesh she had made. Able to force this away as well, from there it was simple to pull the rest of the skin and fur down, exposing the meat of the rabbit.

From here Leith removed head and feet from the body with a wickedly sharp cleaver, and using a small thin knife, began to work into the flesh of creature. Removing organs, discarding the colon, and cleaning out any existing feces remaining behind in the corpse. A small wooden bowl was used to hold the kidney, liver, and heart. Then she used some twine to bind the leg stumps together at both ends, rubbing down the carcass with oil and pressing a dry rub into the skin before attaching it over the flames adjacent to the pot of water, which she began to add spices liberally to as well.

Entirely focused on her work until this point, Leith now glanced up at her companion. "You don't suppose there are more ginger plants around here?" She indicated the broth with a nod, if there was it would liven up the liquid considerably. Two other sizable pots of melted snow were being used by the Rathari to cleanse her hands between tending to the meat. It was haphazard set up, and one that appeared as if she had brought a small kitchen along with her into the woods, but that was what was so useful about being able to turn into an 8 foot behemoth. Her stomach growled at that thought. Simple as her shifts were, she had done it frequently enough in this day to have expended much energy, and the smell of the heat beginning to cook the spiced rabbit on its spit was causing her to salivate. She then made a clicking sound and turned to the two remaining of the rabbits in her care. "Apologies, I'm usually a bit more chatty while cooking, but I haven't really worked with rabbit before." She lifted up one rabbit, sniffed, then set it down, pulled an onion out of one her bags and quickly minced it, flipping over the lid of the soup pot and adding another small bit of oil, then dumping the onion onto it to roast a minute before adding to the water.

"Do you ever need to visit the city, or can you stay out here in the forest without need of anything Kalzasi offers?"

[Faine]

Faine watched curiously as Leith returned to her human form and examined one of the limp rabbit bodies with her fingers. There was a hint of relief in the Fae when they realized the Rathari was using more or less the same method; they did not relish looking too inexperienced or foolish before a potential new friend.

At the mention of ginger, Faine set their last skinned rabbit to the side in the snow and looked about. It took an extra minute or so of searching, but they were able to find familiar heads of leaves poking through the icy white.

With deft fingers, they felt around each clump and, using a small stick foraged during the search, stabbed around snow and dirt until they could see the white of its chubby roots. Carefully, they continued digging around and pushing the soil about until the clumps were loose enough to snake out. Once they had about two to three clumps, Faine returned to the warmth of the fire and began cleaning dirt off of each root.

Pulling out their handy little dagger, the Fae sliced slivers of ginger with deft, practiced movements. Somewhere deep in the archives of their mind, they recalled an obscure fact Mother once shared. Wild ginger, if consumed in large, concentrated amounts, could prove poisonous, but used sparingly as a garnish would cause no lasting ill effects.

In an easy sort of productive silence, the two worked side by side, Faine rubbing and pushing in some of the ginger before the rabbits were spitted and roasted. It was not long before the tantalizing smell of sizzling fat and meat rose through the air.

The hermit found themselves lost in a trance, hypnotized by the crackling fire and rumbling of their own belly. It was broken, however, once Leith began speaking again.

Faine smiled and shook their head. "No need to apologize. I am used to the quiet."

At the Rathari's next question, they needed a bit longer to respond. Faine had taken for granted that they could mostly come and go as they pleased. That is, up until their bull headed, thug of a sister had managed somehow to track them and turn their neat little life upside down. Fray was always good at that, disrupting and disturbing where ever she went. Faine half wondered if it was some desperate cry for attention.

"To be honest," they finally answered, "I am surprised at what I've discovered is truly a need, and what is not. Materially, I need very little. A blanket here, a loaf of bread there. I enjoy living simply; it allows me to focus on my craft."

Faine poked at the fire, sending a flurry of embers and flames rising on their side. "But I suppose everyone has their limits. There are days when the quiet grows too stifling. If I'm not careful, my mind will start to try and fill in the empty spaces with something, anything. No one can stand being alone for too long, not even myself, without their head paying the price."

What the Fae did not mention was how hard of a lesson that was to learn. The sheer number of hallucinations they experienced was likely enough to send any new acquaintance questioning their sanity altogether. Fortunately, there were other things to focus on.

"So I do go into the city from time to time, under the guise of needing supplies. Mostly, I just talk to people, and remember what it is like to be civilized."

With that said, the Fae sniffed the air and could detect a tinge of burnt meat. "Ah, I think that one closest to you might be ready. Please, the honors are all yours." They waited until Leith could get a good few bites in first before launching their own line if inquiry. There was, as always, the sordid business of finding Femi to address, and Faine would be a poor example of familial duty indeed if they did not at least try.

"Speaking of the city," they ventured cautiously, "what about you? I'm sure you had your reasons for coming to Kalsazi, but it can be a tough place to survive in, especially for a newcomer. Have you made friends, laid roots, that sort of thing?"

[Leith]

Leith watched with undisguised interest as Faine carefully carved off sections of the ginger for adding to the rabbit and to simmer with the onions in the pot lid for half a minute before being added to the stew. She darted distracted glances between Faine as they spoke and the other rabbits that she dismembered, more focused on the Fae then her own cooking as she clumsily sliced away sections of meat and diced them before dropping handfuls at a time into the stew.

The Rathari’s brow furrowed somewhat at Faine’s explanation of their solitude. She tried for a moment to imagine that kind of isolation, and gave a slight unconscious shudder. She enjoyed the silence of her rooms after a long day, but that was something altogether different from what the Fae spoke of. To live alone until it was simply too much, and only then interact with others? It had to require a certain amount of mental fortitude, a sense of self that Leith was quite sure she didn’t possess. Then again, if the Fae had been raised on a ship and Leith in the woods, perhaps things might have been different.

Leith opened her mouth to ask about a certain phrase Faine had said, then blanched when the Fae pointed out the rabbit on the spit had to be done. Caught up in her imaginings and tending the stew she had failed to smell the acrid tang that began to waft up from the fire of burnt rabbit. A deep flush overtook the Rathari’s cheeks as she snatched the rabbit from the spit and carved off the burnt areas for herself, eager to consume the charred meat both to erase her mistake as well as put something substantial in her belly. The rest of the carcass she passed to Faine, chewing thoughtfully as she mulled over her response to the new queries.

“I came to the city to find others like me, or perhaps I should say, find out if there are others like me. Other Druskai Rathari. I know Rathari isn’t really in the blood, it simply happens, but the circumstances of me arriving and hatching in the Southern Ocean, were a bit mysterious, apparently I came from here, as do real leopard seals.” She paused, chewing more rabbit then pulled out a small sack of flour, adding some to the stew to thicken it.

“It was strange. I love the warmth of the ocean in the South, the weather, the sun and how it is always out. But when I stepped off the boat and onto the Kalzasi docks, to the chill and the snow, something felt very...right about it. When I took my first plunge into Lake Udori, even more so.” Another thoughtful pause ensued as she chewed on a particularly tough portion of the burnt rabbit flesh, finishing of the last of it.

“I like the people of the docks, the lower city. They were not kind, nor welcoming, but we understand each other. At least more than the Avialae.” She made a strange expression. “I know they are not gods, but something about them seems above others, even if they do not purposefully portray it. Besides the area of the city I tread for work, I feel as if I have barely scratched the surface.” Then her face lit up. “And that’s what makes it so exciting.”

“Wait.” The phrase she had caught in her mind came back to her. “You said being out here let’s you focus on your craft, what is it you do?” She took a ladle of the stew to her mouth and took a sip, tilting her head to the side and fishing out some dried herbs, sprinkling a handful in, stirring again and sipping once more, then nodded. She then took out a couple small wooden bowls and filled one almost to spilling with the stew, large white chunks of rabbit meat, onion, and a few specs of ginger hovering around the top of the amber liquid. She inserted a wooden spoon, threatening to truly overwhelm the thick liquid and passed it gently to Faine. It was simpler then she would have liked, not proper time to make a broth from bones, or have additional vegetables, but it was warm and savory and sometimes that was enough.