Two days later, I’d spent almost every waking minute in the kitchen. The lodge itself remained silent and empty; I peeked in there, but didn’t want to disturb whomever lived there. Though I never saw anyone, I felt grateful they shared their hearth with me. The kitchen was fast becoming my home.
A giant vat of porridge simmered slowly, ready for a Berserker to carry it to the lodge of unmated spaewives. I served it sweetened with plums and honey. Sage joined me for hours on end, helping me peel and chop and grind herbs. Willow and Hazel also visited, bearing baskets of mushrooms and hard apples they found in the woods. And, often, Berserker warriors came by, leaving gifts of meat for me.
Around sunset, a great whoop went up on the mountain, loud enough to reach my ears. I left the fire a
