The morning after the festival, Marron woke with her fingers curled into tight, aching fists. It took her a mont to realize they weren’t holding anything—her hands had simply refused to unclench overnight.
She sat up, flexing them slowly until the stiffness gave way to a dull burn. Mokko was already up, brewing tea.
"You’re slow today," he said mildly.
"Not slow," she muttered. "Just... tender."
"Mm." His ears flicked toward the stall outside. "Custors won’t care which you are."
She wrapped her hands around the steaming cup he passed her and let the heat work through her knuckles. The festival had been worth it—every dumpling sold, and for the first ti, people smiled as they approached her cart. But her body was sending her warnings in no uncertain terms.
By the ti she reached the market, the square was back to its everyday rhythm. The festival garlands had been taken down, replaced by crates of dried herbs, baskets of root vegetables, and the calls of traders.
Her first custor was a young wolfkin with ears that barely cleared the counter. He handed over a bundle of mint leaves in trade for fried potato wedges, sniffing them with a grin before darting away.
Marron set the mint aside for tea later, smiling faintly—then winced as a tray slipped in her grasp. The edge had caught her palm in just the wrong place.
She shook it off and kept working. One day of aches wouldn’t slow her down.
Two days after the mini-festival, the square was quieter, but Marron’s stall was busier than ever.
The caral apple dumplings had left their mark—custors who once eyed her with suspicion now stopped without hesitation. So even ca back for seconds.
This morning, as she was packing smoked fish for a foxkin trader, a broad-shouldered wolfkin approached. His fur was dark brown, his voice like gravel.
"Rice balls," he said. "Chicken. Crispy. Sauce inside."
Marron straightened a little. "You know, that’s the second order for that exact thing in less than a day."
The wolfkin didn’t respond, just placed a small basket on the counter. Inside were apples—ruby-red, fragrant, and perfect.
Faraway friend.
The code clicked in her mind instantly. Another quiet trade with the snakekin. She tucked the basket away without comnt, letting the thought simr at the back of her mind.
I wonder what else I can make with these apples. Maybe I can give so to Lyra to plant...
By midafternoon, her hands were screaming.
She’d been slicing vegetables since sunrise, shaping rice balls, kneading dough for the next day’s rolls, and flipping skewers over the grill. Each task sent a dull burn crawling up her arms.
When she tried to lift the stockpot, the handles bit into her palms, and she nearly dropped it. Mokko caught the other side without a word, but his whiskers twitched in quiet disapproval.
"You’re slowing down," he said, setting the pot back on the burner.
"I’m fine," Marron muttered.
"You said that yesterday."
Before she could argue, Lyra’s voice cut in. "No, you’re not."
She stood at the counter, arms folded. "Hands. Show ."
Reluctantly, Marron held them out. The skin was flushed, knuckles tight, fingertips trembling.
Lyra clucked her tongue. "You’re not making it to the next market day like this."
A few minutes later, she returned with a wooden basin of steaming, herb-scented water. "Soak. Ten minutes. No argunts."
"I can’t—"
"You can. Unless you want to drop soone’s food in their lap."
The heat seeped into her fingers, loosening the ache. She let out a slow breath—then blinked.
Sothing round and cool brushed her palm.
Floating in the basin was the sa pale-blue sli she’d glimpsed at the festival. Up close, she could see two faintly glowing orbs swirling inside its body.
"...What is—"
"That," Lyra said, crouching beside her, "is a kitchen sli. Usually hired from guilds or city kitchens. Cleans, fetches, sotis preps. Most have one core. It looks like...this one’s got two."
"Is that odd?" Marron asked.
"Mmhm. I’ve only seen a handful of slis with two cores. They usually get squished by stronger creatures. I think the inn employs at least three."
A soft chi sounded in Marron’s mind:
[Detected: Blue Kitchen Sli]
Cores: 2
Potential: Healer
Would you like to adopt this creature?
Before she could respond, Mokko appeared. "Yes."
"Mokko—"
"Yes," he repeated. "Marron, it’s so tiny. If you let this one wander around it’ll get stepped on."
Now that, they could agree on.
Marron nodded. "Sure. Let’s na you Lucy."
The sli perked up at her new na, releasing Marron’s fingers to climb over the basin’s rim. She oozed across the counter, leaving a perfect gleaming path in her wake, and began arranging Marron’s spoons into a neat fan.
Lyra smirked. "Looks like she’s already hired herself."
Marron flexed her hands—still sore, but better. "Welco to the team, Lucy."
Lucy gave a cheerful "Bloop!" and polished the counter until it shone.
"Ow...Mokko, I don’t think I can make it back in ti to trade with the other beastkin. Would you mind--?"
"Nope, not at all. I’ll watch the cart for you." He left with the cart before she could say another word.
For the first ti since the festival, Marron let herself sit back. Between Mokko’s sharp eyes and Lucy’s tireless energy, maybe—just maybe—she’d make it to the next rush without breaking herself in half.
As Marron continued to let her hands soak, she rembered the basket of apples in her food stall. "Lyra, could you ask Mokko for so apples, please?"
The wolfkin started to frown. "Marron--"
"Lyra, trust . You’ll want to see these apples."
A few minutes later, Lyra was practically running back to the fountain. "Marron," she hissed, carrying a cloth-covered basket. "where the heck did you get these?! They’re the juiciest and reddest apples I’ve seen in my existence!"
Marron grinned, pleased that she was surprising another person for once. "I got two orders from wolfkin asking for rice balls. They say they’re for faraway friends. Each ti I’ve filled it, they give these apples."
Lyra was speechless. "Kael should’ve said sothing...!"
"Well...he technically did," Marron continued. "At least, he told what faraway friend ant. So...now you have so apples for the garden. Can you grow them from the seeds inside?"
The female wolfkin had a conflicted look on her face. "I can, but...Marron, do you realize what this ans?"
Now she was confused. "That you’re going to have a big apple orchard?"
Lyra playfully punched Marron on the arm. "Ow!"
"Yes, but also, these are snakekin apples. One of their most treasured possessions! And they traded it for your rice balls instead of raiding the village."
She pulled an apple out and gently pressed her paws on it. The apple bruised and began releasing a ruby-red juice that slled like fine wine.
"Wow. These would be so good in a pie, but...why do I feel like I slled them before?"
"Because you have. I used them to make the caral apple dumplings at the festival."
Lyra’s mouth dropped open. "Yeah, we’re definitely planting these. They traded for them. Legally, it’s ours now. You have officially helped us start our first batch of fruit trees."
Marron tried not to look too proud of herself.
"But you’re still not allowed to cook until your hands are all better!"
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