Word Count :: 500+
Finally her rambling seemed to strike a familiar vein in the creamy dog and he perked up a little, coming out of a reverie Liliya hadn't noticed when he heard the name of the pack. Her ears perked, too, something inside of her unable to sop the jolt of happiness she felt when she realized they could connect on something. Her tail twitched just ever so slightly as the thought brightened the moment. She nodded, the sadness subsiding and the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes drying. “You are from the Court. No kiddingk?” She said in a gay outburst. “Hey! Is wonderful! We once lived in the same home, and now we do again. Vhat more could make us family, eh?” It was amazing that fate would do that to them, for them. But, Liliya didn't remember this man from before, so maybe they didn't live in the pack at the same time. Still, it was just one more way for fate to connect her to someone around her. And how dearly she wanted to connect...
“It is great hope, that we should be findingk this out,” she professed somewhat unintelligibly as she leaned to inspect the fish. She did notice the man's futile attempt at shaking hands, and she nodded her acknowledgment and understanding. Inspecting the meat, she inhaled deeply and then eyed it. It had a nice sweet scent and a golden crust. She turned to Denver, nodding and waving her hands at him. “Is good! Is perfect, right now, hssst, move.” She waved him away from the fire. Fish was a delicate meat and if it wasn't removed from the heat in time it could burn in half a second. She moved to take the cooking stakes, and the sizzle of the meat slowly died out.
“ah ha! Good job. Is perfect!” Someone might as well have given Liliya a fortune by the way she reacted. But no, this jubilation was only for a couple of successfully cooked fish planks. “Here, friend always eats first. I vhill catch another.” She offered the meat to Denver, urging him to accept it and eat it while it was still fresh and warm.
Leaving the prepared meat to Denver, she prepped another fishing line, baiting the hook and casting it before burying the hilt of the pole in the sand and returning to his side. “So vhen did you live there? Did you know Niro, the little rat. Or maybe you were knowingk my father, Rurik?” There was another pair of fillets from the original catch that still needed cooking, so she got to it.
She sat cross-legged again, holding the poles as she had before to lightly smoked the cod over the fire, but now she was facing Denver with a more genuine smile than before. “How do you like the feesh, Denver Mathis? Is good? It can be better, ja, but is good, no?” She smiled, hoping he would approve of the creation.
Image courtesy of davidesimonetti@Flickr; table by the Mentors!
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