The scents of baked goods and raw flour rushed out to greet them, filling Amriel’s senses, as baker Lonny opened her door to them.

“By the gods, Amriel! Maeve! What are you doing out in this weather?” asked Lonny as she stood back from the door, “Come in, my dear, out of that rain! You both look chilled to the very bone.”

Tightening her grip around Maeve’s waist, Amriel helped her step inside Lonny’s bakery before shaking off the rain. The warmth of the ovens enveloped her, contrasting sharply with the chill that clung to her skin. The inviting scent of warm bread made her stomach growl in protest. Lonny's bakery was a welcomed haven against the storm that raged outside.

“Thanks, Lonny. We got caught in that downpour on our way back from…,” Amriel replied, catching herself before she said too much, “On our way home.” She finished lamely.

“What happened to you, Maeve?” asked Lonny as the redhead, her hair plastered against her skull, hobbled her way across the bakery.

“I, ah, got distracted and slipped and fell,” said Maeve, her eyes flickering at Amriel, who shrugged a little helplessly.

“Oh, I’ve had that happen to me before, dear. Those cobblestones can be a danger in the rain! Sit, sit! I’ll fetch you something warm,” she insisted, bustling off to the kitchen.

Maeve settled into a chair near the ovens, grateful for the warmth radiating from the roaring fire. She shifted her leg gingerly, wincing as a sharp pang shot through her knee. The last thing they needed was for her injury to slow them down further. The memory of their narrow escape lingered in her mind, a grim reminder that danger was still lurking in the shadows.

Amriel paced the bakery floor, her dark eyes darting around the cosy interior. Shelves stacked with jars of spices and loaves of fresh bread lined the walls, but she wasn’t focused on the delicious aroma that filled the air. Instead, she searched for anything that could serve as a makeshift brace. Her heart raced, fueled by the urgency of their situation.

“Stay put, Maeve,” Amriel called over her shoulder, her voice steady and unwavering. “You need to rest while I find something to stabilise that leg.”

“I’m fine,” Maeve insisted, stubbornness igniting in her dark eyes. She forced a smile, though it barely masked the discomfort gnawing at her. “We can’t linger here.”

“No, we can’t,” Amriel agreed, almost muttering to herself, a hint of frustration lacing her tone. “But we must tend to that leg first, or it’ll only worsen.”

Suddenly, her hazel eyes brightened, narrowing in on a row of wooden spoons hanging from a rack on the wall. “Ah ha!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement as she crossed the bakery.

Maeve raised an eyebrow, scepticism etched on her face. “Spoons? Really?”

“We’ll owe Lonny for this, but these should do the trick,” Amriel said, lifting the spoons and studying their sturdy wooden handles. The light from the ovens flickered over her determined expression, casting playful shadows across the room.

“You really think that will work?” Maeve asked, her voice remained doubtful but flavoured with hope.

Amriel looked back, her smile winning and resolute. “Sometimes, the simplest tools can become the most effective solutions. Trust me.”

Just then, Lonny returned, her hands full with a tray carrying two steaming cups of spiced cider and a plate of freshly baked cinnamon and dried apple muffins. “Here we are! Just what you need to warm you up!” She set the items down on the table with a flourish, her cheeks flushed with the heat of the kitchen.

“Oh gosh, you spoil us, Lonny. Thank you,” said Amriel, her mouth starting to water at the smell of the freshly baked muffins.

Maeve managed to smile through her grimace. “Yes, thank you, Lonny. You are too kind. Just don’t tell my daughters, or my husband, or you’ll be baking these muffins for weeks to come.”

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Lonny’s pale eyes glinted with a touch of mischief, “There are worse things, my dear. Now, Amriel, is there anything I can do to aid you here?”

“Well, now that you’ve asked,” I was wondering if I could make use of these spoons?” Amriel asked, holding the pair of wooden spoons up, their polished surfaces gleaming in the warm light of the bakery.

Lonny placed the tray she was carrying onto the table beside Maeve, who eagerly accepted a muffin, its fragrant sweetness mingling with the aromas of fresh bread and spiced cider. “Of course, my dear. But spoons? Really? What do you need those for?” Lonny’s brow furrowed slightly as she echoed Maeve’s earlier sentiment, a mixture of curiosity and bemusement crossing her features.

“I’ll use them to stabilise Maeve’s sprain until we can get to my cottage and I can make her a proper one,” replied Amriel, taking a sip from her mug of spiced cider and hissing softly as the hot liquid burnt the roof of her mouth ever so slightly. But it was damned delicious, and so she blew softly over the hot liquid and took another sip.

Lonny nodded thoughtfully, a moment of silence passing as she contemplated Amriel’s unconventional choice. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she added, “Well, why don’t you wait until this rain stops and I’ll ask George next door to take you both home in his wagon?”

Had the circumstances been different, Amriel might have very well accepted the offer. But the last thing they needed to do was have Lonny caught with a pair of possible outlaws in her bakery. “No, I’m afraid we can’t wait that long,” replied Amriel, shaking her head, hoping that Lonny wasn’t in one of her insistent caretaker modes.

Evidently, she was, “Really, Amriel? I can’t imagine a sprain being such an emergency…”

Maeve gently cleared her throat and set her mug back down on the tray, “This is my choice, Lonny. The girls are unwell and we need to get back so that Amriel can make a tincture for them. We were only in town to pick up the needed herbs when we got caught in this storm.”

As both a mother and a grandmother, Lonny softened Immediately, “Of course. Those poor dears! Let me go pack them some sweets to help them feel better while Amriel gets you fixed up here.”

Without a further word, Lonny disappeared once more into the next room. Rummaging sounds could be heard as she foraged her supplies and stocks for treats for the twins.

Armed with the spoons, Amriel gave Maeve a grateful look as she sat down on a chair next to the northerner, “Thank you for that. I was worried she was going to press that one. Now let's take care of that ankle.” She reached down, her touch gentle as she lifted Maeve’s leg to rest across her lap.

Maeve emitted a soft snort, a hint of irony threading through her tone despite the pain etched on her face, “It’s a little ironic.”

Amriel paused, her brow furrowing in curiosity. “Ironic? In what way?” She met Maeve’s gaze briefly before returning her focus to the task at hand.

“The girls have been trying to get a few over on Simon and I, lately…ow!” Maeve inhaled sharply as Amriel adjusted her grip to wrap the injured ankle.

“Sorry,” Amriel murmured, her brow furrowing in concentration. “I have to make the binding snug if we hope to make it to the Vhengal forest.” Strands of dark, damp hair slipped free from her braid, framing her face like a curtain as she leaned closer, her concentration absolute.

“No need to apologize. I’m the one who fell, you’re just helping,” Maeve replied, “But here I am, trying to teach my girls the value of honesty while I’m lying to sweet ol Lonny.”

It was Amriel’s turn to snort softly. It surprised her not at all now that the twins were testing their parents boundaries. That had been Maeve’s lot in life before she’d settled down and married Simon. At least, as much as Maeve could settle down. “Honestly, I think it’s a white lie at best, so don’t beat yourself up too much there. Don’t beat yourself up too much; it's perfectly normal behaviour for their age.”

Maeve sighed, a wistful note threading through her voice. “That’s what my mother and Simon keep telling me.” She gazed into the distance, her expression tinged with sadness. “But it still stings to realise my sweet little girls are losing that innocence.”

Amriel’s tone shifted playfully, a teasing lilt breaking through the sombre mood. “All kids are little monsters at some point. You, of all people, should know that. But you and Simon will always love them, regardless. Just like your parents did for you.”

This time, despite her discomfort, Maeve chuckled softly, “Of course. I would do anything for them, Amriel. Even if they lie to me about brushing their teeth. So how’s it looking over there?” she asked.

“Almost done,” Amriel murmured, her fingers deftly tugging at one of the last knots of cloth that bound the wooden spoons to either side of Maeve’s ankle. “It’s not pretty, but it should hold.”

Maeve’s tone softened, a shadow of uncertainty creeping into her voice. “So, you really think we’re headed to the Vhengal, hm?”

With a careful motion, Amriel finished the last binding and slowly lowered Maeve’s foot to the ground. She met Maeve’s gaze, her expression steady and resolute. “I believe it’s the safest choice for Simon and the girls. We haven’t told them who we are; they know nothing of us. As long as we don’t lead them back home, they’ll remain oblivious to your family’s history. The Vhengal will shelter us in the meantime.”