#fomweek

Sections of the Eastern Road were well-trodden by now, signs of human presence had reasserted themselves after a couple of summers of archaeological digs and selective logging as the town developed.

But the Deep Woods remained largely untouched. Here, nature still ruled - fallen logs hardened with age, tangles of undergrowth concealing the earth beneath, the air thick with the scent of moss and topsoil. All in all, its inaccessibility proved a boon for cloistering a certain person away.

At the basin of the temple, Dove paused to dust themselves off once more and check their rucksack. The precious cargo inside was intact. They lingered a little longer than necessary, delaying the inevitable climb to the dragon’s abode. They were sure Caldarus would welcome the company - he always did - but ever since the Shooting Star Festival a few weeks ago, Dove had felt uneasy about visiting. It was always great once they arrived, yet the anticipation in the hours before was nerve-wracking.

They’d given up using the two-way teleportation between shrines, preferring now to make the long walk. It felt more respectful than simply appearing unannounced in his space. Caldarus never seemed to mind - considering he sorely lacked options for company - but still, this felt better to them. Proper.

As Dove climbed the worn stairs toward the temple platforms, the familiar melody of a lute drifted down to meet them. They paused mid-step, a smile breaking across their face as they caught sight of Caldarus. Adjusting the strap of their pack, Dove let the rhythm of the music guide their pace upward.

Caldarus plucked at the strings with practiced grace, his claws moving with delicate precision. Briefly, his meditative state was stirred as dark eyes peeked through his lashes to confirm what he’d already sensed. Dove raised an open hand in silent greeting, hopeful he would keep playing rather than return the pleasantry.

Thankfully, Caldarus continued on. Dove grinned, barely glancing at the carved stone bench before plopping themselves down on it. Carefully, they took out a cream woven wrap from their bag, smoothing it into a square section of the bench before gently setting a ceramic container onto it.

After a bit, Caldarus reached the natural conclusion of the song and moved to stow the lute aside.

“That was lovely,” Dove started.

Caldarus gave an easy smile. After some consideration, he said, “It seems every time I play, the forest listens... but it is nice to have someone else to share it with.”

“Speaking of,” Dove said, clumsily directing attention away, tapping their blunt nails on the hollow top of the ceramic, “sharing, that is...”

“What’s this?” Caldarus prompted kindly.

Dove launched into a rushed explanation - maybe offering too much context. “Reina and I made far too much food this morning. I’ve been practicing for that uppity chef from the Capital’s contest this Saturday, and I didn’t know if you’ve had these before.”

Dove uncovered the dish, revealing a half-batch of spring galettes - the thin cheese center topped with fiddleheads, mushrooms, and leeks, all uniformly edged by a golden, flaky brown crust. Reina’s wrapped pastry corners were a bit tighter and neater than Dove’s, but it was all practice for Talliferro. And there was still time to master it.

Regardless, Caldarus looked absolutely pleased by the reveal. Where his culinary skill lacked, Dove’s amateur attempts appeared miraculous.

“May I?” Caldarus managed to reign it in enough to ask for permission.

“Oh, I insist,” Dove replied quickly.

Caldarus plucked one off the top, cradling it in his hands, taking the time to examine the characteristics of the savory pastry.

"I am grateful to be able to sample the delicacies of the modern world. Thank you for giving me another such opportunity."

Dove felt a tug of amusement at how many things were so monumental to him. Still, it left them with a queasy flutter in their chest. The only natural, friendly-sounding reply they could manage was a mumbled, “Go on, have it."

Needing something to do rather than obliquely observe Caldarus’s every measured movement, Dove took one of the galettes - not intending to bite into it just yet, but simply to use it as a physical distraction, a buffer.

As Caldarus sampled the savory pastry, he seemed to light up. After a moment's time, he said, "So this is what spring tastes like as a single dish... Magnificent."

The spring galette almost sprung from Dove’s hands - startled by his words, they blurted out, “Oh wow, that’s high praise.”

Dove had long worked at not deflecting compliments - a poor habit since childhood, but the meaning of “too much” was clear enough to both parties.

Caldarus tilted his head, head angled in contemplation, “Your skill refines with each season, Dove, and I would not call it too high a praise.”

Dove nodded, “well, thank you. I’ll just make sure that Talliferro concedes to that.”