The Next Morning.
If war was loud, peace was absolutely deafening. Especially when that peace involved feeding an entire fortress of starving Wolf Kin.
Primrose stood in the center of the Winter-Hold kitchens, which were currently hotter than a volcano and twice as chaotic.
"More garlic!" Primrose shouted, pointing a ladle like a general's baton. "And somebody grab that roast before it burns! If the crackling isn't crispy, I'm going to cry!"
"Yes, Chef!" three burly wolf soldiers shouted in unison, scrambling to obey.
Usually, the kitchen staff would be terrified of an outsider taking over. But after rumors spread that the Fox Lady had purified the Shrine and dragged their children out of the Void, nobody questioned her. Also, the smell coming from her pots was enough to make a grown wolf weep.
Primrose wiped sweat from her forehead. She turned to chop some root vegetables, but her body moved faster than her new appendage.
SWISH.
