Good food

I woke to the smell of something cooking.

It was subtle at first, creeping into my dreams like a whisper, pulling me from the depths of sleep before I fully understood what was happening.

The scent was warm, rich, the unmistakable aroma of sizzling meat, earthy and savory with the faintest hint of charring. My stomach, despite everything, twisted with hunger.

For a moment, I didn't remember where I was.

My mind floated in the groggy space between waking and dreaming, the cold stone beneath me unfamiliar, the damp air pressing against my skin. But then the memories hit—Maeve, the forest, the chase, the cave. And now—cooking?

My eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused. The dim glow of morning barely reached inside the cave, casting everything in soft, bluish-gray shadows, but there—just a little ways from where I had been sleeping—Maeve crouched beside a makeshift fire, her silhouette sharp against the flickering light.

She was cooking.