Nova
Yesterday was a sultry memory, my checks become rosy thinking about what I and kain did yesterday.
The morning the Silver Fang pack arrived,
I was in the kitchen helping Lena make bread.
I say helping loosely. What I was actually doing was sitting on the counter eating the scraps of dough she trimmed off the edges while she worked with the focused efficiency of someone who had made bread approximately forty thousand times and didn't need interference from amateurs. But she'd told me to sit there, so I sat there, and I ate the dough scraps, and we talked.
We talked about the garden. About which roses needed cutting back before autumn. About whether the groundskeeper's wheelbarrow would survive another season or needed replacing. About what she'd made for the Alpha's tenth birthday — a chocolate cake with orange icing that he'd requested specifically, very seriously, in a handwritten note delivered to the kitchen.
