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Spice and Woof
Chapter 37: Jaffa on the Rocks

Chapter 37: Jaffa on the Rocks

Chapter 37: Jaffa on the Rocks

The soft glow of candles lit her quarters in the sun’s absence. Dantes snored softly on a nice plush couch in the lounge while she finished preparations for the morrow. Knowing there would be a high chance of him getting lost, she’d sent a guard to retrieve him after some time had passed. She’d even been pleasantly surprised when he’d brought back one of the three things she’d asked for. Money and maps were optional in adventures anyhow. Spices were not. A dog marches on his stomach after all.

She didn’t know what tomorrow held in store for her, but she wanted to be prepared. She’d been caught once without a good plan, and she didn’t intend on making a habit of it, when she could help it.

And by preparation, of course she meant food. On the counter in a bowl sat a lumpy, sticky ball of dough covered in a warm blanket. She ground the big chunk of sunflower seed she’d brought from the grove into a coarse flour, and together with some yeast she’d sourced the other day… well she wanted big things from that dough. It still needed to rise though, hence why she waited.

The Featherfish Dantes had shown up with was unexpected, and she’d had hopes for a new dish, but she’d lacked something vital. She sniffed the fish, the scent of [Freedom] lingering ethereally. She put it back into her pocket where it would be preserved. No, she’d needed something else, more than spice. Something with texture. Something like what she’d found in Dantes’ pouch earlier.

A dandelion seed as big as her fist. Where he’d gotten it, she had no clue, and neither had he, really, but it was perfect. She’d double checked her ingredients book, and yes, apparently, they were edible. No information on the giant version of the same plant, but she assumed they were the same. The scent it gave off indicated it had the potential of deliciousness at least.

There was one more thing Dantes had told her before crashing on the couch. Something she didn’t really know how to confront. The thought of it brought a strange placidness to her, though she felt she should feel something different.

A soft knock echoed from the entrance to the kitchen area.

“For someone in hot water, you don’t seem concerned, amira.”

She glanced over, then sighed, rising to set out some cups on the table.

“Hawk. It’s been a while. I’m glad to see you.”

He touched a hand to his chest accompanied by a miniscule nod.

“You may as well have a seat, Hawk.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He hesitated a moment, but complied, as though making a large concession to himself.

She spooned in some jaffa powder and sugar into his cup.

“Not looking for a new job, are you?”

He shook his head.

“Shame. You’d do fine on your own, I think.”

“That’s kind of you to say, amira. I can see why your companion values you so” he said gesturing to Dantes asleep on the couch.

“He’s loyal to his friends is all.”

“Something we should all strive for…” a moment of pause engulfed them before he continued.

“I had thought you dead, amira.”

She hummed noncommittally, pouring a spoonful of warm water over the jaffa powder and sugar. More sugar than was sensible in her opinion.

“Mitty’s the name. I couldn’t tell you before.”

“You know my job here is to ensure your death, right? …Mitty.”

She gazed into his eyes. An uncertainty clouded their normally piercing gaze. “Yes.” she responded simply.

After mixing the warm jaffa solution, she slowly added chilled water until the glass was half full, mixing it again, spoon clanking softly against the sides of the cup.

“I have a duty, you know.”

“I know.” She topped up the glass with cold milk and some ice before pushing it over to him.

“Thank you. Just the way I like it.” He narrowed his eyes before shaking his head softly. “You are not making this easy on me, am- Mitty.”

She nodded, starting a new glass, starting from the beginning, stirring in warm water to properly mix everything, before adding the cold water and milk.

“I can’t let you escape.”

She nodded, adding less ice to her own glass.

“If I let you go, my life is ruined.”

She chose not to respond, instead setting a saucer on the table.

“I’m sorry.”

She poured the coffee into the saucer.

“I feel like we could’ve been friends.”

“Aren’t we?”

She shifted, padding up to the saucer on all fours. It didn’t feel right, drinking it in her other form. This felt right. The coolness felt nice against the humid air that clung to this region. The sweetness and bitterness flowed back and forth across her tongue, fleeting and beautiful, like a glorious morning. Silence hung in the air as she regarded her companion.

His dark skin seemed pale in the dim light from the braziers. He made to pick up his cup, the perspiration on the glass matching that on his brow, but his trembling hand set it back down before he spilled any.

“Kitty Cat?” he whispered. “I… didn’t realise. Shadow, please understand. My loyalty is all I have. All I am. I need to do this. Without this I am no one. I am no one” he repeated under his breath.

She looked at him before returning to her jaffa. Like a ripple on a lake’s surface, the lapping sounds did not break the silence, but were merely a part of it, a texture to the noiselessness that now engulfed them.

“I see I was the fool, friend. I should go. I… I should go. Shadow. Mitty. I will not stand against you tomorrow. Let things happen as they may. Goodbye.” Still looking shaken, he got up and left pushed his way through the doors in a stilted gait, the braziers flickering in the draft before steadying once more no doubt. No, the time was not yet right. But it would be the last night she wished that. Tomorrow would bring her freedom as surely as it brought the dawn.

She checked the dough, but it needed more time to rise. She’d never liked waiting. Sighing, she withdrew her favourite knife from her pocket, flourishing it skillfully; another thing she’d missed doing.

She lay the dandelion seed on the counter next to the fish, an idea slowly percolating in the depths of her mind.