The shift in the atmosphere inside the hut did not happen all at once, nor did it settle easily into something comfortable, but it was undeniable that something had begun to change as soon as her words left no room for refusal. The two men who had once stood outside as distant observers were now inside, standing in a space far too small for their presence, looking—perhaps for the first time—not like hunters or calculating outsiders, but like men who had just been handed a task they were completely unprepared for. She noticed it immediately, the subtle stiffness in their posture, the way their eyes flickered toward the simple cooking area as if it were something unfamiliar, almost threatening, and for a brief moment, she had to resist the urge to sigh.
"If you're staying," she said calmly, already moving toward the small cooking space as she began sorting the fruits, leafy greens, and roots she had gathered earlier, "then you start by helping."
The hunter frowned slightly, crossing his arms as he watched her movements with narrowed eyes. "Helping… how exactly?" he asked, his tone carrying a faint hint of skepticism, as if he expected something far more dangerous than what she was suggesting.
She didn't even look at him as she replied, her hands already working efficiently. "You cook," she said.
Silence.
Then—
"…cook?" he repeated, as if the word itself didn't quite register.
The second man, standing slightly to the side, tilted his head, his expression calm but clearly intrigued. "You're assigning us… cooking duties?" he asked, his tone smoother, though no less surprised.
"Yes," she said simply, finally glancing at them, her gaze steady and entirely serious. "Unless you'd prefer to leave."
A pause followed.
The hunter exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to process the situation. "…it's not that I can't cook," he muttered.
She raised an eyebrow.
"…you can?" she asked.
He hesitated.
"…I can cook meat," he corrected.
"That's not cooking," she replied immediately. "That's burning."
The children froze.
Then—
Theo, the oldest, looked away slightly, his shoulders trembling just a little.
Leon covered his mouth.
And Noella—
Giggle.
A soft, uncontrollable giggle slipped out.
The hunter stared at them. "…you're all laughing?"
"No," Theo said quickly, his voice tight.
"You are," the hunter insisted.
"No," Leon added, though his eyes betrayed him.
Noella nodded seriously. "You burn it."
The hut went silent.
Then—
The second man let out a quiet breath that sounded suspiciously like suppressed laughter.
The hunter turned slowly toward him. "…don't you start."
"I didn't say anything," the man replied calmly.
"You were thinking it."
"…possibly."
She didn't intervene.
Instead, she simply handed the hunter a bundle of cleaned roots.
"Peel these," she said.
He stared at them.
"…with what?"
She handed him a small knife.
"…carefully."
He took it like it might betray him.
Meanwhile, she turned to the second man and handed him the leafy greens. "Wash these," she instructed.
He looked down at them, then back at her. "…in what?"
"There's water outside," she said.
"…of course there is," he murmured, as if realizing he had asked something unnecessary.
The children watched everything closely, their earlier tension replaced by quiet curiosity—and growing amusement.
For a while, the hut filled with small, awkward sounds—the scraping of the knife against the roots, the rustling of leaves, the occasional muttered complaint from the hunter as he struggled to peel something evenly.
"This is inefficient," he muttered under his breath.
"This is basic," she replied without looking at him.
"It's unnecessary."
"It's food."
"…fair."
A pause.
Then—
"…why are they uneven?" he asked, holding up a poorly peeled root.
She glanced at it briefly.
"…because you're impatient."
Theo snorted.
Leon quickly looked down.
Noella didn't even try to hide it this time—she laughed.
The hunter looked personally offended. "…I am not impatient."
"You are," all three children said at the same time.
Silence.
Then—
"…this is unfair," he muttered.
The second man returned shortly after, placing the washed greens down neatly. "Done," he said.
She nodded once. "Good."
The hunter glanced at him, then at his own uneven work. "…show off."
"I followed instructions," the man replied calmly.
"…I did too."
"Not effectively."
"…you want to try peeling?"
"I don't need to."
"…of course you don't."
The children were fully amused now.
---
After some time, the fire was lit, and the simple meal began to take shape, the aroma of cooked vegetables filling the small hut in a way that felt unfamiliar yet comforting. The tension that had once dominated the space had softened, replaced by something lighter, something almost… normal.
But she wasn't done.
She glanced at the hunter. "You," she said.
He looked up. "…me?"
"Yes. Go to the river."
"…why?"
"Catch fish."
The entire hut went quiet.
Then—
"…fish?" Leon repeated, his expression uncertain.
Theo frowned. "Fish tastes bad."
Noella nodded immediately. "Very bad."
The hunter crossed his arms. "See? Even they know."
She looked at them.
Then at him.
"That's because you don't know how to cook it," she said.
Silence.
The hunter blinked. "…excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"I've eaten fish before."
"And?"
"…it was bad."
"Because it was cooked wrong."
The second man tilted his head slightly. "…there's a right way?"
She looked at him.
"…yes."
Another pause.
Then—
"…I'm curious now," he admitted.
The hunter scoffed. "You're both overthinking this."
She handed him a simple container.
"Go," she said.
He stared at it.
"…you're serious."
"Yes."
A pause.
Then—
"…fine," he muttered, standing up. "But if it still tastes bad—"
"It won't," she cut in.
"…we'll see."
And with that—
He left.
---
Time passed more quietly after that, the preparation continuing smoothly, the children occasionally asking questions, their curiosity growing with each step.
At some point, she called them over.
"Theo," she said.
The boy froze slightly.
"…yes?"
"Bring that here."
He blinked.
Then obeyed.
Leon looked up next.
"Leon," she continued.
He hesitated for just a second before moving as well.
Then—
"Noella."
The little girl lit up immediately, running over without hesitation.
The second man noticed it instantly.
The way they responded.
The way their names sounded in her voice.
"…you remember them clearly," he said.
"Yes," she replied.
A pause.
Then—
"…you should use names more often," he added.
She glanced at him briefly. "Why?"
"It builds familiarity," he said.
Theo nodded slightly.
Leon agreed quietly.
Noella smiled.
Then—
The door opened.
The hunter returned.
With fish.
"…I got them," he said.
She nodded. "Good."
He paused.
Then looked at her.
"…you didn't call my name," he said suddenly.
Silence.
The children blinked.
The second man looked at him.
"…what?" she asked.
"You called theirs," he said, gesturing toward the children. "Theo. Leon. Noella."
"…yes."
"…so?"
"…so?"
Another pause.
Then—
"…you can call mine too," he said.
The hut went completely silent.
Then—
The second man added calmly, "That would be fair."
She stared at both of them.
"…you want me to call your names?" she asked slowly.
"Yes," the hunter said.
"If we're working together," the second added.
Theo looked confused.
Leon looked curious.
Noella looked excited.
"…what are your names?" she asked.
The hunter straightened slightly.
"…Kael," he said.
The second man followed.
"…Riven."
Silence.
Then—
"…Kael," she repeated.
The hunter froze.
"…again," he said.
"…Kael."
"…that sounded better," he muttered.
She turned slightly.
"…Riven."
The second man's gaze flickered.
"…acceptable," he said calmly.
Noella clapped.
Leon smiled slightly.
Theo shook his head.
"…this is weird," he muttered.
And for the first time—
The hut filled with something that almost felt like warmth.
---
End of Chapter 11
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