“Kre,” Lowil said with a tsk, “you’re letting the stew burn. You need to stir evenly, scraping the sides and bottom as you go.”
Swearing softly to himself, Kre readjusted his grip on the wooden spoon and started to attack the pot more furiously. After a couple of wayward splashes, the girl stood, shook her head sadly, and deftly plucked the spoon from his hand all in a single graceful motion. As soon as she made a move, the two Rangers were on their feet immediately but relaxed slightly when they saw her simply stirring the pot and not causing trouble. Kre tried to protest and take back the spoon, but the young girl simply swatted his hand away each time until he finally gave in.
“All right,” he said, raising his hands in defeat, “I guess you prefer unburnt stew. And here I was trying to make a Nevynar delicacy. There’s nothing quite like the crunch of a good Nevynar stew.”
He thought he spotted a hint of a smile underneath the wild unkempt hair. He had an urge to brush the hair aside and look directly in her eyes, to show her that he wasn’t like the Rangers that abused her and berated her. His head knew better than to try though. The brief glimpse he had of her eyes gave him the indication that she wasn’t someone who would appreciate unsolicited gestures of kindness.
Kre resisted the urge and instead focused on studying the two Rangers. They seemed more withdrawn than usual, muttering between themselves and smirking at their own inside jokes. Kre had hoped that they would continue their boisterous and informative chatter, tell him about the lands they’ve visited and the strange peoples they’ve seen. He half-hoped they could even tell him more about the Dragon Knights and what he was getting himself into with this journey.
But, there they sat, one slowly sipping at his tea and the other stirring his tea idly with his finger. Their hands never seemed to stray far from their blades though. Kre assumed this was just old professional habit, learned from being on the road and fending for themselves for so long. He partially wondered if the covenants of justice would allow him to carry a weapon or if Braun had accounted for that somewhere in all those papers he carried.
“Braun,” Kre said aloud, surprising everyone in the room including himself. The others turned as one to face the door, to see if the clerk had appeared suddenly, but the door was still closed.
“Sorry all,” he muttered. “I just realized that he’s been out there a while and it’s getting dark.”
Lowil nodded, “You know, I had almost forgotten about him too.” There was a hint of a smile behind those words but Lowil hid his true feelings well. “Perhaps you can go check on him?”
The older Ranger, Marce, set down his mug and whapped his partner on the shoulder. “Petriv, go with the boy. You know the things that come out when the sun goes down.”
Petriv cocked his head slightly and then smiled knowingly, “Of course sir.” He stood and slid his long dagger out of his sheath, quickly ran it across his pant leg twice, and then slammed it back home. “Let’s go boy.”