“What are you up to?” Vell asked as he stepped into the house, his nose crinkling at the strong, distinct smell that greeted him even before he crossed the threshold.
“I made some tea,” Sonder replied, lifting her wooden cup with a small smile.
She poured another cup from the kettle, the only metal object in the entire house. Steam rose lazily from the hot liquid, and she handed the wooden cup to Vell, who accepted it with curiosity.
He knew immediately that she hadn’t made it the traditional way—no gathering of dry leaves, no wood for a fire. She must’ve improvised. He took a sip, and the moment the taste hit his tongue, he spat it back into the cup.
“This might be the worst tea I’ve ever had,” Vell said, though he kept his tone light, trying not to sound too harsh.
Sonder tilted her head, genuinely intrigued and slightly disheartened. “Really? I can’t taste it at all. I can feel the warmth and smell it, but there’s no flavor for me.”
“That’s... unusual. How did you make this?”
Sonder shrugged lightly. “I wasn’t sure how to do it properly. I asked the plant for a few leaves, and it gave them to me. Then I used fire magic to heat the water.” She glanced at him, almost hoping for validation. “But I didn’t expect it to taste so bad.”
Vell chuckled, shaking his head but not unkindly. “Well, tea’s a little more nuanced than just boiling water and tossing in leaves. It’s all about timing, temperature... and not every plant makes good tea.” He glanced at the plant beside the bench. “I’m not sure this one was meant for it.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Sonder frowned. “I thought that since the plant willingly gave me its leaves, it would work. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe it isn’t a tea plant after all.”
Vell smiled, shaking his head. “Oh, you meant well; that’s what matters. But just because a plant gives you something doesn’t mean it’s going to taste good.”
Sonder leaned back, sipping from her cup, though more for the warmth than the taste. “I suppose. Seems like there’s still a lot I need to learn.”
“You’re getting there,” Vell reassured her, settling into a chair across from her. “At least you didn’t set the house on fire. You’re controlling the flame well.” He took another cautious sip of the tea, grimacing slightly but managing to swallow this time. “Next time, though, I can show you how to brew tea properly. It’s an art form, really.”
Sonder nodded. “I’d like that. But I didn’t know you were such an expert on tea.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet. Tea is just the beginning.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Vell conjured a small pile of sugar cubes from thin air, dropping four into his cup. With a flick of his fingers, the tea stirred itself, swirling the sugar through the liquid—there were no spoons in the house, after all.
“A strange thing happened today,” Sonder said, breaking the quiet. “I met a bird that could talk.”
Vell immediately perked up, leaning forward. “Really? What did it say?”
“It was strange,” she said, her brow furrowing as she recalled the encounter. “It didn’t feel like talking to a bird at all. I thought maybe it was a druid in bird form, but... how could I know for sure?”
“Did you ask it?”
Sonder shook her head, a touch of regret in her voice. “No, I didn’t think of that until it had already flown away.”
“Well, next time, just ask. Druids are strange like that.”