Chapter VIII, Reading 6

Kewero wasn't in the yurt when Flindra entered the circular tent. She tied the flap closed while she waited for the old woman to sense her presence and travel through the barrier. When Kewero walked from the shimmering zone into the yurt, Flindra held up the ptarmigan proudly and smiled.

Kewero clapped her hands together in joy. "Excellent," she remarked happily. "There are few things better than roasted ptarmigan. It used to be one of King Meldh's favorite dishes. Before the trouble with the Nameless Ones began, he and his gentlemen would travel to the Northern Reaches just to hunt ptarmigan."

"It was one of Papa's favorites, too. Every year we would go to the tundra at the higher elevations of the Greyfell Mountains and hunt them."

Kewero nodded with a smile. "Are you ready to go back?"

"Yes."

The return trip through the transition zone was identical to Flindra's first encounter. She was overwhelmed by a jolt of awareness - an awareness of the pulse of life. She wondered if the effect of the zone was symmetrical. Going into the cavern, experiencing life - going out, light. It was a question for Kewero when they got around to discussing the transition zone.

"Go ahead and take care of Deru," Kewero said as she took the ptarmigan from Flindra. "I'll get this cooking."

"All right."

"Feel free to warm up in the bathing pool before you change clothes. I will be in the kitchen."

Flindra quickly cared for Deru and then herself. By the time she walked into the kitchen, Kewero had finished plucking the ptarmigan's feathers and was now working on preparing the stuffing. She was using some leftover bread for the base of the stuffing and was adding dried herbs to the mixture.

"That smells good," Flindra commented as she sniffed the bowl of stuffing.

"Would you mind fetching the roasting pot from the pantry?"

"Not at all."

What Kewero called her pantry was nothing more than a small cave adjacent to the one, which served as the kitchen. It was stocked with all the necessary cooking pans and utensils as well as with the stored food.

Flindra looked around for the cast iron oven that Kewero baked her bread in and saw it neatly put away on a rock ledge that formed a convenient shelf. The pot was a large round vessel, which stood on three feet. This kept it from being in direct contact with the coals of the cooking fire and allowed for baking or slow roasting.

"Could you bring some of the turnips, too?" Kewero yelled from the kitchen.

"Yes," she hollered back.

She lifted the heavy lid from the iron pot and fetched a number of the stored turnips. These she placed directly in the pan for it was heavy enough to require two hands to carry. This allowed for one trip instead of two.

"Would you mind peeling the turnips while I stuff the bird?" Kewero asked when she returned.

Flindra's answer was to pull out her dagger and start peeling the turnips. She couldn't help but smile as she worked for she had always enjoyed helping in the kitchen. Peeling the vegetables reminded her of home and that was a very comforting feeling.

"Kewero, I made an interesting discovery about Rigga while I was out riding," she began in a conversational tone.

"What was that, child?"