As the steam curled upward in fragrant wisps, the rich aroma of the rabbit filled my small cottage, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. My stomach grumbled in anticipation, and I found myself leaning over the pot as if I could will it to cook faster. Every minute felt like an hour.
When it was finally done, I carefully lifted a piece, still glistening from the steam. The heat bit at my fingers, but I couldn't wait. I brought it to my lips, and as soon as my teeth sank in, the savory juices burst across my tongue. The flavor was deep and earthy, carrying the wildness of the forest and the faint kiss of the spices Master had given me. For a moment, I closed my eyes and simply let the taste claim me, my whole world narrowing to the tender meat melting in my mouth.
I tore into the meat with greedy, almost desperate bites, each mouthful a little faster than the last. The warmth spread from my lips to my chest, sinking deep into my belly like a comforting ember. My fingers were slick with the juices, and I didn't care—each bite felt like it was mending something inside me I hadn't even realized was broken.
Halfway through, I froze. A strange awareness was blooming in my limbs. The dull heaviness in my muscles—the ache I'd carried for weeks—was fading, replaced by a lightness that felt almost unnatural. My breath came easier, my pulse steady but strong, and there was a gentle heat in my veins that wasn't just from the food.
I glanced toward the little pouch of spices Master had given me. Could it be? Was there something hidden in their scent, in the way they clung to the meat? My heart beat faster—not from fear, but from the wild thought that he might have given me more than just flavor.
I decided not to rush. Whatever magic—or mystery—lay hidden in those spices could wait until my plate was clean. For now, I let the warmth in my body have me, savoring it as if it were another flavor of the meal itself. The fire crackled softly, and the dim glow painted the walls of my cottage in flickering gold.
But as I ate, the thought of going to him later kept sneaking into my mind, uninvited and persistent. Last time I'd gone to his place in the evening, the air between us had been so thick with unspoken words that I'd barely been able to breathe. I remembered the way his eyes had lingered on me, not unkindly, but sharp enough to make me feel as though he could see through every layer I wore.
Even now, just picturing his presence—the quiet weight of it, the way he always seemed to fill the space without moving—was enough to stir something restless in me. My pulse quickened, and an unwelcome heat spread low in my belly. I shook my head, forcing myself to focus on the rabbit, yet the more I tried to push the thought away, the more it lingered, curling around me like the steam rising from my meal.
I stretched out on my bed, the rough but familiar linen cool against my skin. The air inside the cottage still carried the lingering perfume of cooked rabbit and spices, wrapping around me like a heavy, comforting blanket.
My mind wrestled with itself—one side urging me to rise, to walk into the night and demand to know what he had given me; the other coaxing me to wait, to let morning's light make things easier. I imagined his expression if I turned up at his door now, cheeks flushed from the fire and from thoughts I barely dared to name. The image alone made my breath uneven.
But my body had its own say. The pleasant heaviness of a full stomach, the warmth from the hearth, and the slow, honey-like pull of fatigue began to dissolve my resolve. My limbs sank deeper into the mattress, each muscle surrendering in turn. Outside, the wind whispered against the shutters, a lullaby for someone too tired to fight the night any longer.
My eyes drifted shut almost on their own, thoughts of him blurring into dreams before I could decide if I wanted to keep them. Sleep came softly but entirely, swallowing me whole.
The night folded over me like a warm tide, and somewhere between waking and sleep, he appeared. At first, it was only his shadow—tall, certain, stepping out of the haze. The scent of those spices drifted with him, stronger now, curling through the air until I could almost taste them again on my tongue.
He was closer than I expected, so close the space between us seemed to melt away. His gaze pinned me—steady, unblinking—and it was as though my body remembered something my mind did not. My pulse quickened, my skin prickled with heat.
He reached for me—not hurried, not hesitant—his hand finding mine before sliding to my wrist, his touch searing and impossibly real for a dream. The warmth spread upward, along my arm, sinking deeper, until I felt it in my chest.
The cottage was gone. We were nowhere and everywhere at once, surrounded by soft darkness and the faint hum of something alive, as though the night itself breathed with us. He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear—hot, deliberate—sending a shiver down my spine.
When his lips found mine, it was not gentle. The taste was spiced heat and something wilder, something that felt like it could burn me from the inside. My hands reached for him without thinking, and the world narrowed to the press of his body, the rush of heat, the feeling of being caught between surrender and hunger.
Somewhere far away, I heard my own voice—low, unrecognizable—call his name.
I woke with his name still sweet on my lips, a soft echo from the night's dreams. The sunlight was already spilling through the cracks in the wooden beams, warm and golden, nudging me gently awake.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and rose slowly, the memory of that lingering heat still fluttering inside me. I splashed cool water on my face, letting it chase away the last traces of sleep. Today, I had to sweep the main hall again — a simple task, but somehow heavier in my thoughts.
As I stepped into the bright morning air, there he was, standing near the entrance like he always did — calm, strong, watching.
My heart stumbled and my voice caught as I stammered, "Master… was there something special in the spice you gave me?"
He looked at me, eyes steady but kind. "Yes," he said quietly, "it will help you with your training. Don't worry — it's just some plants, carefully chosen to support your body."
Relief and warmth flooded through me, brighter than the morning sun. I felt… happy. Overjoyed, even.
He was caring for me. For real.
And somewhere deep inside, a fragile hope began to take root. Could there be something more between us? Something beyond the quiet lessons and distant gazes?
I didn't know yet what that something was, but the thought made my heart beat a little faster.
But little did I know… the training was about to become even heavier.
That same day, after the morning's tasks, Master's gaze grew sharper, his instructions more demanding. The calm patience I'd known before was replaced by something stricter—pushing me beyond my limits.
My muscles ached in ways they hadn't before, every movement a battle between exhaustion and determination. Yet, somewhere beneath the weariness, I felt a strange thrill—an unspoken challenge, as if he expected me to rise, to become stronger not just for survival, but for something… more.
And even as my body cried out for rest, my mind clung to the warmth of his kindness, the hope that flickered like a fragile flame inside me.
As I fell down onto the cold floor, gasping for air, my chest heaving with exhaustion, his voice came softly through the haze.
"Sweetness we dream about, is sweetness we crave. Meditate on peace."
He turned without another word and walked away, leaving me trembling in the quiet.
I barely made it back to my cottage, every step heavy, my limbs weak and trembling. Stripping off my sweat-damp clothes, I stepped into the steaming hot pool, letting the warmth swallow me whole.
The heat soothed the aching muscles, the tiredness slowly melting away beneath the surface.
But what did he mean? Sweetness we dream about… sweetness we crave? Was it about this training? Or something deeper — something I hadn't yet understood?
I closed my eyes, the question swirling in my mind like smoke, searching for peace in the quiet ripples around me.