Kael emerged from the treeline exactly as the sun touched the horizon.
Marron watched him approach with the same fluid grace she remembered, each step deliberate and silent. The fading light caught his gray fur, turning it silver at the edges. His golden eyes were fixed on her cart.
He observed her like he was circling around prey.
She wiped her shaky hands on her apron and stepped out to meet him.
"You came back," she said, and immediately regretted how uncertain it sounded.
"I said I would." Kael stopped a few paces from the cart. His nose twitched. "You cooked it."
"I tried." Marron gestured toward the pot still sitting on her stove, the lid on to keep it warm. "I don't know if I succeeded."
"Show me."
Her heart hammered as she climbed back into the cart. Mokko had stepped aside to give them space, but she could feel him watching. Supporting her from a distance.
She ladled a generous portion of the stew into her best wooden bowl—the one the cart had provided weeks ago that she'd never used. The meat was tender, falling apart at the gentlest touch. The broth was deep burgundy, almost black, with vegetables that had absorbed the essence without losing their shape.
She brought it to the serving window.
Kael took the bowl with both hands, the way he had with the thornboar stew. But this time, he didn't drink immediately. He held it up to his nose and inhaled deeply.
His ears flicked forward. His eyes closed.
"This is duskbeast," he said quietly.
"Yes."
"It's properly prepared." He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Do you know how rare that is?"
"The System said I had a fifteen percent chance of success."
"Your System was generous." Kael's voice was low. "Most G-rank chefs wouldn't attempt this. Most F-rank chefs would fail."
"I had good instructions." Marron's voice wavered. "And eight hours of focus. And a lot of terror."
Kael's mouth curved slightly—not quite a smile, but close. "Fear is healthy. It means you respected the challenge."
He lifted the bowl and drank.
Marron held her breath.
She watched his expression—the way his eyes widened just slightly, the way his ears pressed back, the way he swallowed and went very, very still.
He drank again. Slower this time. Savoring.
When he finished half the bowl, he set it down carefully on the counter and looked at her with an intensity that made her want to step back.
"You listened," he said.
"I tried to."
"No." His voice was firm. "You did not try. You listened. To the meat. To what it needed. You gave it patience. You gave it respect. You gave it time to become what it was meant to be."
He picked up the bowl again and drained the rest, not stopping until it was empty. When he set it down, she could see his hands were trembling slightly.
"Kael?"
"This tastes like home," he said quietly. "Like the forest after rain. Like safety and danger coexisting. Like..." He paused, searching for words. "Like understanding."
Marron felt tears prick her eyes.
[DISH EVALUATION COMPLETE]
[CUSTOMER: KAEL]
[SATISFACTION: EXCEPTIONAL]
[SPECIAL NOTE: This meal has created a bond]
Kael reached into his belt pouch and pulled something out. A cord of leather, worn soft with age and use. Threaded on it was a single tooth—curved, sharp, gleaming white even in the dimming light.
The duskbeast's fang.
"This is yours," he said, holding it out to her. "You earned it."
"Kael, I can't—"
"You cooked a B-rank ingredient at G-rank and made it excellent." His golden eyes were steady. "You did what your System said you could not do. You proved that numbers mean nothing compared to skill. To heart. To courage."
He pressed the cord into her palm and closed her fingers around it.
"Wear this. It marks you as someone who has faced something dangerous and won. In Whisperwind, that means something."
Marron looked down at the fang. It was warm from being against Kael's skin. Real. Solid. Proof that she had done the impossible.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Kael nodded once. Then he turned to leave.
"Wait!" Marron called. "You said—before, with the thornboar—you said I could come to Whisperwind. Did you mean it?"
He looked back over his shoulder. "Pack your cart. We leave at dawn."
"Just like that?"
"You passed my test." His voice was matter-of-fact. "You proved you can listen. That you respect what you are given. That you do not waste or diminish." He paused. "The others will not be as easily convinced. But I am bringing you regardless."
"The others?" Marron's stomach tightened. "Who?"
"The elders. The council. The community." Kael's ears flicked. "Some still think humans bring only greed and war. You will need to prove them wrong."
"How?"
"By being exactly what you are." He started walking again. "A cook who listens."
"Kael, wait—what if they don't accept me? What if—"
"Then you will have tried." He didn't look back this time. "And in Whisperwind, that is never shameful."
He disappeared into the darkening forest.
Marron stood there, the duskbeast fang clutched in her hand, her heart racing.
Mokko padded over. "Well. That's decided, then."
"He's insane," Marron said faintly. "I'm G-rank. I barely know what I'm doing. And he wants to take me to a place where everyone will hate me."
"Not everyone." Mokko adjusted his glasses. "He doesn't hate you. And I'll be there."
"You've been there before?"
"I'm bearkin. Distantly related to several families in Whisperwind." He looked at her seriously. "They'll welcome me immediately. You... will have a harder time."
"Great." Marron laughed weakly. "So I'll be completely alone in a hostile place where I don't speak the language and everyone thinks I'm the enemy."
"Yes," Mokko said simply. "But you'll have your cart. Your food. And me, when I can help without making things worse for you."
"This is a terrible idea."
"Probably." He gestured at the fang in her hand. "But you just cooked a B-rank ingredient with fifteen percent odds of success. If you can do that, you can handle Whisperwind."
Marron looked at the fang. At her cart. At the empty market around them, peaceful in the twilight.
She thought about her old cubicle. The fluorescent lights. The motivational posters. The slow suffocation of a life that looked good on paper but felt like dying.
She thought about her mother's kitchen. The flour in her hair. The tired smile. The fried chicken made with love.
She thought about Kael's voice: "You listened."
"Okay," she said quietly. "Okay. We go to Whisperwind."
She tied the leather cord around her neck. The duskbeast fang rested against her collarbone, cool and solid.
"But first," she added, "I need to figure out how to pack this entire cart without breaking anything."
Mokko grunted. "I'll help. But you're cleaning out the cart. There's things in there I'm not allowed to touch, remember?"
"The cart still won't let you near the drawers?"
"It's very possessive." Mokko's tone was dry. "I'm starting to think it's jealous."
Marron laughed—a real laugh this time—and climbed into the cart to start organizing.
Outside, the stars began to appear through the canopy of trees.
And somewhere in the distance, in a forest she couldn't yet see, Whisperwind waited.