Jarn awoke to the sweet, sweet smell of griddle cakes. Something Gerda didn’t make often, she claimed they were below her skills as a cook. Little did she know they were quite possibly the only food in her repertoire that tasted better after being cooked. So today was an exception. Physically he was drained and beaten, but his head was spinning with the thrill of victory, cut only by the peril in which Seryan lay.
He quickly got out of his bedroll and dressed for breakfast. As Gerda handed him his plate, he heard a strangled whining coming from around one of the wagons.
“What’s going on over there?”, he asked, gesturing toward the front of the lead wagon.
“Oh, the boy’s are having a little bit of fun with that runt you captured”. she replied, smiling in approval. “Serves ‘em right too. They totally destroyed my kitchen, this was all I could scrape together”.
“I think these are great”, Jarn replied, digging in with gusto.
“Flatter all you like young man, that still won’t get you out of helping me clean the kitchen up”, she returned with a smirk. Jarn groaned, having forgotten how much she liked tormenting people.
“I suppose you’ll have me pulling the wagons too”, he quipped.
“You might just have to”, she replied seriously. “Turns out some of the mules were killed in the attack yesterday”.
“What will we do then?”
“I don’t know”, she replied.
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Love it!
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