Hati gently returned the sketchbook to its shelf, turning to inhale the sweet scent of the pie filling coming from their kitchen. It was cherry today. He watched as Edgar deftly rolled out the top crust, covering the top of his pastry before sliding the dessert pan into the oven. The tall wolfdog strode up behind the chef, wrapping his arms around his mate's thin shoulders and hugging him tightly. There were no words needed for this, just a simple gesture of his appreciation. He loved Edgar dearly, and their simple life together out in the woods was more than he had ever dreamed of.
Edgar had such a unique skill set with his recipes - pies and cakes, candies and sweets, a world beyond the simple cooking Hati had grown up with. Even with the recipes right in front of him, he could not replicate the fanciful desserts that Edgar could craft so effortlessly. Instead he lent his help in a different way, meeting with the traders and travelers that could secure the necessary ingredients and tools for his latest creation (as well as new journals and writing utensils). His serious, protective presence helped to shield his mate from swindlers and crooks - or so he hoped, he knew he was not a shrewd bargainer or a warrior. His wolf heritage had him stand a good head and shoulders above Edgar, so it was merely a facade. Still, they had not had any trouble yet, which was a relief. Hati would rather die than let Edgar be hurt.
It was undeniable that sugar could be hard to locate up in the north, and at times the couple just didn't have the necessary bargaining chips to trade for it. Sometimes Hati would travel by himself, riding Asagi into the city of Halifax to search the abandoned buildings for metal cans of goods. Edgar was always so happy to receive the rare gifts, nonperishable syrups and fruits and fillings that they could not find in their wilderness. Other times he would ride his more feral mare, Luneth, deep into the forest, to sniff out berry bushes, apple trees, or honeycomb. In the winter he learned to tap maple trees, get sweetness from their sap which he stored in small bottles. He would carefully wrap these gifts in cloth and stash them in his saddlebag, before they would gallop faster than the wind, racing along the land back to the cabin they called home in their eagerness to share his discoveries. He never liked to be separated for long.
A noise outside caught his attention, and he turned to glance briefly out the window. It sounded like Edgar's goose was honking about something. The horses were not disturbed by it, so it could not be an intruder -- perhaps there were flocks of geese overhead, migrating south for the oncoming winter, and their presence had upset her. He dismissed it for now, turning to bury his nose in Edgar's soft mane fur. The spaniel always smelled so sweet.
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