Cooking Spree

She laughed at his enthusiasm, knowing his ability to fly would come soon, and then they better all look out. “If you fly in my kitchen, Mister, you’ll be in trouble. One gust of wind and all my ingredients will be on the floor” she pointed out to him. Scolding him only in jest. She pretended to shake a paw at his beak before turning over her roasting meat.

She did indeed see his petal fall delicately to the floor. “It’s pretty, and it's symbolic. But mostly, it's a tradition. Art and Briar are going for a big traditional wedding that the whole pack could enjoy. That means lots of colours and food and cheer. You get to throw the petals, because you are very important to them, and central in the wedding.” She explained, hoping she wasn’t making a mess of it.

She pulled one of the roasting sticks off the fire and pulled a rolled up ball off the stick. It was hot in her paw, and she blew on it a few times. There were herbs pressed into the meat, and while the outside had a good charred look to it, the inside was still gooey and tender and raw. The way wolves liked it. “Here, try this” she said, lightly tossing the meat at his beak. That in itself had almost become a tradition in this kitchen.

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