The sound of crackling leaves was subdued by the crackling of the campfire. Behind the sweet smell of smoke was the smell of grass and earth, carried by the cold, crisp autumn air. But the sky was warm, a mix of reds and oranges surrounding the sun and fading out in purples and pinks.
When I was little, my mother and father taught me days like these were a reward. A gift of peace, of beauty. Stoking the fire, sitting on sturdy log, I couldn't help agreeing. I stirred a pot of stew, eyes watching a piece of meat as it began to char. I quickly turned it, ensuring it would cook evenly.
In my pack, I took out two plates and three bowls. I'd made too much food again, but I hoped they wouldn't mind. I poured myself a third of the stew, and half of the meat. The rest were for the gods. As I took my offerings to the fire, a voice behind me sounded.
"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt."
I chuckled, looking back at the source of the voice. A local diety, and family friend. Talia, the goddess of the Blue River.
"You could visit more if you wanted. My family hardly ever sees you. The last time we met up was the summer solstice festival." I poured half of the remaining stew into the third bowl, handing it off to the goddess.
"Some human hadn't been leaving offerings at the river, and Mother felt quite insulted. It took a while to convince to not flood their village."
The thought of insulting Mother ran a chill down my spine as much as it made my face hot.
"I'm glad you did, as much as I'd like to see that person's nice garments soaked." I said with a light laugh.
"Or their finest pottery cracked." Talia laughed. She pulled her dark hair back over her shoulders as she dug into her bowl of stew, and smiled with a please hum.
"It's been so long since I've had your stew. Your father has been teaching you well!"
Bringing my own spoonful to my lips, the taste was rich, meaty, juicy.
"Still not as good though."
Talia sighed and shook her head. "Just as your father, aren't you? He didn't believe the same until Mother said so. Your mother begged him to make it for Mother's festival. And what a blessing it was that I could be there too!"
"My mother did know your Mother best. I'm not surprised she was so confident." I look at the untouched half piece of meat on a plate.
"Would you like to take some just for Mother?" I asked, offering her the plate. She shook her head.
"More for the others then," I said. The meat was tossed into the fire, and with a prayer, it disappeared in the smoke. With that, Talia got up to take her leave.
"Will you be at the winter solstice festival this year?" I asked. Talia looked back at me and smiled, a teasing look in her cool blue eyes.
"If the river remains un-frozen, and my food, un-burnt."
Writers_High2 t1_iy6547b wrote
Reply to [WP] Every time you cooked over a campfire, you would throw some food into the fire as an offering to the gods. One evening, just as you're about to perform your little campfire ritual, you hear a voice behind you say "You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt." by DragoTheFloof
The sound of crackling leaves was subdued by the crackling of the campfire. Behind the sweet smell of smoke was the smell of grass and earth, carried by the cold, crisp autumn air. But the sky was warm, a mix of reds and oranges surrounding the sun and fading out in purples and pinks.
When I was little, my mother and father taught me days like these were a reward. A gift of peace, of beauty. Stoking the fire, sitting on sturdy log, I couldn't help agreeing. I stirred a pot of stew, eyes watching a piece of meat as it began to char. I quickly turned it, ensuring it would cook evenly.
In my pack, I took out two plates and three bowls. I'd made too much food again, but I hoped they wouldn't mind. I poured myself a third of the stew, and half of the meat. The rest were for the gods. As I took my offerings to the fire, a voice behind me sounded.
"You know, I would very much prefer my food un-burnt."
I chuckled, looking back at the source of the voice. A local diety, and family friend. Talia, the goddess of the Blue River.
"You could visit more if you wanted. My family hardly ever sees you. The last time we met up was the summer solstice festival." I poured half of the remaining stew into the third bowl, handing it off to the goddess.
"Some human hadn't been leaving offerings at the river, and Mother felt quite insulted. It took a while to convince to not flood their village."
The thought of insulting Mother ran a chill down my spine as much as it made my face hot.
"I'm glad you did, as much as I'd like to see that person's nice garments soaked." I said with a light laugh.
"Or their finest pottery cracked." Talia laughed. She pulled her dark hair back over her shoulders as she dug into her bowl of stew, and smiled with a please hum.
"It's been so long since I've had your stew. Your father has been teaching you well!"
Bringing my own spoonful to my lips, the taste was rich, meaty, juicy.
"Still not as good though."
Talia sighed and shook her head. "Just as your father, aren't you? He didn't believe the same until Mother said so. Your mother begged him to make it for Mother's festival. And what a blessing it was that I could be there too!"
"My mother did know your Mother best. I'm not surprised she was so confident." I look at the untouched half piece of meat on a plate.
"Would you like to take some just for Mother?" I asked, offering her the plate. She shook her head.
"More for the others then," I said. The meat was tossed into the fire, and with a prayer, it disappeared in the smoke. With that, Talia got up to take her leave.
"Will you be at the winter solstice festival this year?" I asked. Talia looked back at me and smiled, a teasing look in her cool blue eyes.
"If the river remains un-frozen, and my food, un-burnt."
A giggle burst out of me. "I'll see to that."