We haven’t cooked anything yet. This could all still go disastrously wrong,Kirk reminded him, though he couldn’t suppress a smile.
“How about you start by rinsing these herbs?” Kirk suggested setting a small step stool by the sink for Percy to stand on. “Just gentle swishes in the water.”
“Like this?” Percy asked seriously, climbing onto the stool and accepting the bundle of herbs Kirk handed him.
“Just like that,” Kirk replied.
Then he turned his attention to Isla, who was examining his knife block, her fingers hovering over the handles with professional consideration. Without a word, he reached past her and selected the chef’s knife he thought she might prefer. It was well-balanced, sharp, and had a comfortable grip.
“This one’s my favorite,” he said, offering it to her handle-first.
She took it, testing its weight in her palm, then nodded appreciatively. “Good choice.”
She knows her way around a kitchen,his bear observed.
Of course she does,Kirk replied. He was beginning to suspect his mate could do just about anything she chose.
Isla moved to the counter and sorted through the chanterelles. Kirk watched as she selected a mushroom, brushed away a bit of forest debris, and began to slice it with precise, confident strokes.
There was something almost meditative in her expression, as though the simple act of cooking had carried her somewhere familiar and long forgotten.
Don’t just stand there staring,his bear chided.Help her!
Kirk shook himself from his reverie and moved around the kitchen, pulling out pans and bowls, turning on the hob, and gathering the other ingredients they might need: olive oil, butter, salt, and pepper. He placed everything within Isla’s reach without interrupting her rhythm, anticipating what she might need next.
“Mom’s fantastic at chopping,” Percy informed Kirk as he carefully rinsed the mint. “She always wanted to be a chef.”
Kirk nodded. “She sure has the knack for it.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks. “A lifetime ago,” she murmured, not looking up from her work. “But life had other plans.”
She’s being modest,his bear said.Look at her technique.
“Then you must have good muscle memory,” Kirk said, watching her perfectly uniform slices.
The corner of her mouth twitched upward, though she still didn’t look at him. “Okay, I was decent. But that was before Percy, before... everything changed.”
Kirk sensed there was more to that story, but now wasn’t the time to ask. Instead, he moved to help Percy, who had finished rinsing the herbs and was now looking for his next task.
“How about sorting these berries?” Kirk suggested setting a few small bowls on the table. “Big ones in this bowl, medium in this one, and the little tiny ones in here.”
Percy nodded seriously, accepting his important mission with solemn dedication.
The cub takes after his mother,his bear noted approvingly.Focused, careful.
He’s a good kid,Kirk agreed, watching Percy’s small fingers methodically sort the berries.
The kitchen gradually filled with delicious aromas as they worked—the earthy scent of mushrooms cooking in butter, the bright tang of fresh herbs, the sweet scent of berries warming in a small saucepan. Kirk prepared the nettle, blanching it quickly to remove the sting before adding it to the pan where Isla was cooking the mushrooms.
She lifted a spoonful to her lips and blew on it before tasting. Her eyes closed for a moment, and a small, surprised sound escaped her.
“Good?” Kirk asked, though her expression told him everything.
“It’s...” She seemed to search for words. “The freshness makes such a difference. You can taste the forest.”
That’s it,his bear said excitedly.That’s what we wanted to see. Our mate tasting what we gathered together.
“Here, try it.” Isla grabbed a clean spoon from the nearby drawer and dipped it into the mixture. She held it out to him, her eyes meeting his. “Your turn to taste.”
