Page 39 of Trapped By Claws
The wood near the front was either damp or soaked. But the pieces farther in the cavern were dry and brittle. I hauled these out. Then I fished out the bit of flint from the ring with my special spoon.
Within minutes, a fire blazed in the woodstove. And the pipes sent the smoke out into the farther depths of the cave. A little of the smoky scent filled the chamber, but that just improved the overall odor.
Feeling better, I changed back into my own dress, the mauve fabric stiff and uncomfortable but familiar. As I did, my fingers brushed over the little book I'd taken from Mama's desk. My heart clenched.
Mama.
Gently, I lifted the wet book and studied it. My fingers traced the delicate lines and fragile pages. It wasn't in as bad of a condition as I'd expected, probably because it had been madeand treated for researchers who worked on the seas. Some of the ink had run in a few places, but the vast majority was legible.
The book naturally fell open to the spot I had last been reading. The part about the grounded staircases that led into the air and how they were not as dangerous to use as the ones that randomly appeared. There were several scattered throughout the world that still had the necessary grounding runes and mechanisms to work. And a grounded staircase could be used to create a portal that would connect to another grounded staircase with a portal.
I bit the inside of my lip, remembering my last words.
Guilt rose within me. My shoulders sagged.
I carried the book out to the kitchen and set it down so that the heat would reach it.
Tagger nudged it.
"Leave that alone." I adjusted the ties of my apron. "I need to get dinner started." As I started to organize my working space, I sighed. "Obviously, I'll make something with fish. I'd love it if I could get fresh fish. Ironic, isn't it? We're under the ocean, and the only fish I can find is that horrible salted stuff. I do have some cured smoked sausage, so that will help. But this is going to be so salty if I'm not careful."
Tagger padded toward the door that led out to the water entry. He pressed his paw against the runes and then passed through the small flap door set at the base.
My brows lifted. So that was how he did it!
Crossing over, I tested the door handle. It did not give at all. Nor did the little door at the base that Tagger had gone through. It was probably enchanted just for him.
Shaking my head, I returned to my little makeshift kitchen and started to prepare the stew. The well in the back corner provided plenty of clean water. The dirty water, I dumped into the waste chamber in the wash room. Over the course of thenext hour, I seared onions, garlic, celery, and carrots. No flour to make a roux, unfortunately. But the savory fragrance was enough to make my mouth water and remind me of the tavern and of home.
Tagger brought in a large silver snapper. He dropped it at my feet.
My eyes widened. "Oh…that—you understood me?" Why was I even surprised?
He chirped happily, then darted out again before I could thank him.
By the time I finished cleaning the first fish, Tagger had returned with another snapper. The third time, he came back with something similar to tilapia. I scaled and chopped the fish, leaving the heads, fins, and scales in a yellow bowl. He hopped up on the same stool and scooped up the top fish head, devouring it with contented chirps.
It was hard to tell how much time had passed, but it had to be at least a few hours. Maybe several.
The stew simmered beneath the dented lid, and I had gathered the rest of the necessary items for a nice evening meal as well as chopped and stacked a sufficient quantity of wood. The cave had become pleasantly toasty, and the air smelled like garlic, snapper, tomatoes, and spices.
I stirred the stew with my special spoon, my fingers settling nicely in the familiar carved runes. I breathed in the steam and sighed, a pang of homesickness and a yearning for times long past sweeping over me.
The door scraped open across the stone.
Tagger shrieked with delight and bolted off the crooked chair, fish head tucked against his chest.
Corvin stood in the doorway, a bewildered expression on his face and his brows knit. "What did you do?"
The look of utter shock on his face made my smile crooked. I tapped the spoon on the side of the dinged pot. "I made a few changes. Partially because they were needed. And partially to say thank you for saving me." And partially to help convince him that he needed to let me go. I couldn't stay here.
Once again, the thought of leaving him struck me. Harder this time.I soothed it with a promise to ask him if he would go with me.
"How did you make it burn?" He crouched down beside the woodstove, setting his hand on the stone behind it as he peered inside at the flames with something like reverence. "I've tried…so many times."
"I had flint with me."
He glanced up at me, his expression soft, almost vulnerable. "It's warm in here now."
