#mivamod

Slowly, listening for any tiny footsteps behind her, Mama Cherryberry grabbed the bowl of nuts and began to sprinkle another layer on top of the dough.

Behind her, there was a shuffle of cinnamon sticks against glass. Not even turning around, she shot her hand out in the direction of the jar, and her fist clench around a bony little wrist.

Already two heads taller than Mama, the young tiefling was impossible to miss now, and his pockets bulged with walnuts and pistachios. A stick of cinnamon dangled precariously in his fingertips. His tail coiled around his leg as he put on his wettest, saddest eyes.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" she scolded. "Do you not want there to be food to put on the table for afternoon tea? If you keep taking my ingredients, you'll have nothing left but a crusty bottom layer."

"I'm sorry, Mama," he shrunk into himself. "I thought you were done with them."

She couldn't tell whether or not he was telling the truth. She almost hoped he was lying. He'd have to have a real thick head to not tell she was still cooking, and a foolish thief was much more trouble than a dishonest one.

"You see me toiling over a dish on the countertop, and you think I'm done working?' she shook her head. "Out you go. Go see if Papa needs any help in the garden."

"Yes, Mama..."

His tail sloughed onto the ground. He began to trudge out of the kitchen.

"And put the cinnamon stick back."

He turned around coyly. He had not put the cinnamon back in the jar. His eyes darted between the spice and the very impatient chef.

A shy, saccharine smile overtook his face, "Sorry, Mama. I forgot I still had that."

Brandobaris be praised, he was just a liar.