Fable picked her way across the cliff side, occasionally peering down towards the surging waves below. This choice for new dens would be a difficult task to accomplish, but she admired her aunt's vision. She could picture the end product - spacious, warm caverns interspersed with smaller hallways lined with student accommodations. Once it was all said and done, it would be wonderful. But until then… well, her paws already ached at the thought of all that manual labor. Fable wasn’t one to shirk her duties, but she did find herself dreaming of cooking by a campfire rather than being up to her belly in dirt and clay.

Maybe she could make some kind of arrangement where she’d prepare snacks while the others worked… maybe. Fable turned away from the edge of the cliff and headed back inland, dreaming of warm fires and tasty food. It wouldn’t hurt to stop and set up a waypoint for now. As wolves made their way towards the excavation site, they might appreciate a place to stop and warm up in the chilly early spring mornings or after the sun had gone down.

Though the plans for the newly formed, or rather newly renovated concept of, Abaven Academy were set, there was a lot of work to be done in order to actually get up and running. Mainly, getting the actual living areas carved out. He’d been rather stunned by Theory’s objective and idea, but he also thought it to be rather brilliant. She’d written up a general map layout of where she’d wanted classrooms, dorm rooms and the like and the man had wasted no time in getting to work. He certainly wasn’t the only one, others came and went throughout the day, and he’d spent a lot of his time pulling a sled piled high with loose dirt and clay out from the depths of the tunnels to be distributed elsewhere. He made a mental note to suggest they use the fertile soil to construct a garden for their healing students.

He grunted as he shouldered his way under the handle at the top of the sled, muscles straining and he pushed up and tipped the heavy wooden thing into a diagonal slope. The dirt and clay slid off into one of the growing piles and he stepped to the side, letting the sled fall flat to the ground with a thud. He panted from the exertion, mottled melt slick with sweat as he licked his try lips. The man let out a chuff to his nearby owl companion, who hooted and lit from his perch in the trees. A leather bag was strapped to his leg, and he landed in front of Raijin and pulled the strap from his taloned foot. Raijin thanked him, dipping his head to pluck the sack from the ground and go to find a good spot to start a quick fire.

On his way, he spotted the form of a wolf, roughly his size and similar in build, though with noticeably feminine curves compared to his hard, built muscle. She looked to be around the same age as his nieces and nephews. The Genji man let out a chuff of greeting around the pouch clutched in his jaws, nubbed tail twitching behind him good-naturedly. When he neared, he placed the sack on the ground, careful as there were breakables within, and looked to the girl. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met yet. My name’s Genji Raijin, though you’re welcome to call me Raijin,” he greeted with a grin.

"Speech"

Fable had just found what she considered the perfect spot to set up a checkpoint when a sweaty worker greeted her. She tipped her head to the side curiously - some of the others she recognized from allied packs, but this was a newcomer altogether. ”Hello,” she greeted with a switch of her tail. Seeing so many new faces was quite exciting for the young cook. It was an opportunity to learn, that was certain, which she relished. ”My name is Fable, pleased to meet ya!” She eyed the pouch that had been set delicately by his paws. ”Are you taking a break? I was about to begin cooking.” Her own tools were stashed nearby - she had been hoping for an opportunity like this to arise. Cooking for new wolves was always a treat.

The yearling seemed to be quite friendly, a fact that made the man perk up. It was always nice to meet a chatterbox similar to him, even better if they were quick witted and feisty. The latter was yet to be determined, but even if she wasn’t he’d have no qualms. Raijin was surprisingly good with the youths, likely due to his own semi-childish mannerisms, and as a professor it was a skill most needed.

She introduced herself as Fable and asked if he was taking a break, and even better, she said she was about to begin cooking! His auds perked up at this, his grin widening and his nubbed tail wiggling behind his thick, mottled frame. “I am, and perfect timing as well. I’m absolutely famished, would you mind if I impose on you for a bite to eat?” he asked. “I was about to make some tea myself, if you’d like some.”

"Speech"

"Tea..." she mumbled, her cheeks flushing beneath her fur. Ever since she'd flunked that cloaked figure's cooking test she'd found herself self-conscious when she stumbled across something she was unfamiliar with. Theory and her mother had been trying to wheedle out of her what had exactly happened, but she was yet to open up. It felt too raw and recent. Maybe one day, eons from now, when she was an accomplished chef and resting on her laurels, she'd confess. Until then, it was still a sore subject. But that was what this school was supposed to be all about, she reminded herself. Learning. Just because it was the first time she'd heard of it didn't make her any less intelligent. Right... right?

"I'd like to try it. What's it made of?" she inquired, her tail giving a curious swish. This was an opportunity to soak up knowledge! Plus, maybe it was another opportunity to get good at something. Please, please. I need to be good at something. She stretched out long and low, then loped a few yards away to where she'd stashed her supplies and dragged the small sled back towards Raijin. It had her flint, some brittle kindling, a few clay bowls of spices, and of course - two fat salmon. Her favorite. Fable settled in and got to splitting the fish at the belly. It would be a quick and easy meal, seared and spiced liberally, but not like the quivering pieces she spent time to debone and fillet. A different kind of satisfying, rustic cuisine. "Would you mind starting the fire?" she asked pleasantly.

"Fable"

The yearling looked thought, if not a bit hesitant, and he waited patiently for her decision. Tea making was a fine art that required a gentle hand and knowledge of what each type of tea leaf needed in order to bring its full taste out. It was usually common knowledge in Iga on how to make basic types of tea, but as a diplomat, he’d been trained in the finer arts of it to ensure proper reception of foreign envoys. She agreed and he gave an approving nod. "There are different types of tea, but the one I’m going to be serving is called Sencha. It’s a type of green tea, light to the taste with hints of fruits, nuts and florals, and it’s good on warm days because it’s light. Tea can be made from many different types of plants and also from dried fruits or vegetables, but there are specific tea trees that are used. Most of the time, the leaves are dried and chopped, but sometimes they can be rolled and infused. Different types of teas also need to be steeped in different temperatures. For instance, green tea needs to be steeped in simmered water or else you run the risk of ‘burning’ it, meaning it will just be more bitter. Meanwhile, black tea needs water that’s been heated to a rolling boil,” the man instructed as he himself began to lay out his ingredients.

His golden gaze watched her from his peripherals as she pulled a sled out, laden with a, dare he say, beautiful assortment of spices and salmon. He licked his lips instinctually, mouth watering at the thought of the food. His stomach gurgled excitedly. When Fable asked him to light the fire, he was more than happy to obligue. He took the flint and kindling from her sled and dug a small hole in the ground, placed the kindling inside and then struck the flint. It took a few tries, but eventually a spark took. He gently blew on it until it caught further, added a bit more kindling, then, when it was steady, he set up a spit on either side of strong sticks. Raijin pulled out a small, metal kettle from his pouch, poured in some water from his leather canteen, then set it over the fire to begin to boil.

He made sure to stay out of Fable’s way as she worked her magic, the air cooling as the night began to set in. “Have you been cooking for very long?” he asked curiously.

"Speech"