Who is Cooking?

The bright, warm sunlight shone down on my tent making the golden fabric shine like fire. As I blinked my eyes open, birdsong greeted me along with late summer cicadas.

The air in the tent had become stifling and I realized my body was sticky with sweat. Sniffing, I grimaced at the scents of sex, sweat, and my own body odor which were so strong, I felt I should be seeing them.

I crawled out of the tent opening and stood, stretching in the pleasant morning sunshine. My timekeeper on my wrist told me that it was already nine. I'd slept so ate, but I had to admit I felt wonderful.

I quickly cleaned myself in the stream and then looked around the clearing for Kane and Ishmael.

They were gone. As my stomach rumbled, I realized they'd probably left to scrounge up breakfast. Smiling to myself at their housekeeping abilities, I eyed the broken cottage, our new home.

I took off my coat and hung it from a low tree branch. Then, I made my way inside the house.