There is a copious amount of time for reflection in front of an oven. By her fireside, Owena can be whatever she dreams. She can fancy herself an elven princess or a brilliant scholar while she combines ingredients. The latest book that Thaddeon had was making her want to write poetry. Strange that an anatomy book was stirring such desires, yet, the idea of writing poetry always seemed more romantic than actually doing it. So instead she baked breads and treats.
The days had been running into each other, every day a slight variation of the one before. The bakery on one garden street was a place that often had people visiting to purchase indulgences, participate in idle chat, or see if Owena had free samples to pass out. Nogfrid’s last visit made Owena keep a few treats off to the side, just in case he came by. She thought the man needed more food in his life. She also wanted to hear more of his stories. It made her want to go on an adventure of her own. Maybe if she had her own adventure the next time Crow ( Derakoth ) came by she would sound more interesting. He had insisted she didn’t sound simple but she had wished she had something more exciting to say when he asked about her life. Maybe Loakee really would take her on an adventure soon! His eyes were something she wanted to try and draw.
Owena was in a steady rhythm at her bakery and currently had her hands deep in the wooden bowl mixing the nuts and glaze by hand that would make a crust for the seed cake she was baking for the mayor’s wife. Her mind wandered as she went through routines that were down to muscle memory. With Audea helping make deliveries, Haritha helping keep the bakery clean and Leoffrith watching out for her mare, Snow, she had been able to explore new recipes. The woman, Ura ( Wandering), had given her new ideas for recipes. Some of those had been dumped outside for the stray cats. But she had one where she had used Ura’s method of bread making with some of the jellies she had bought from Pansyblossom and it had been her favorite breakfast the past three days. She planned to show the exotic woman her discovery soon. Perhaps she would take some over to Qais and his mother soon. Jam seemed to be good for her health.
The successful baker kept telling herself she needed to take time to have more fun. It had been too long since she had spent time with friends laughing. She missed the noise of Adriellyn’s laugh. She had looked so lovely in the dress that Owena had given her. She hadn’t spent quality time with Beoda I’m too long or her sister, that needed to change soon. Friends were important to Owena now that she had developed real ones and not just characters in her novels. Her thoughts often strayed to Hartaine when she thought of having fun. Her Ma asked after him too. After helping rescue her parents, she had begun to take his presence for granted and now that it was gone she missed him. His home in the woods must be much improved by now. Worries did creep into her mind, did he get hurt or had he chopped enough wood to keep him warm this winter? Owena sighed as she dumped the nuts out onto the table, spreading them out to dry near the fire.
She wasn’t sure if it was Jarngrimnir or Heng that had made sure the woodpile along her house was well stocked but she kept Ma’s maple candies ready to hand out and tempt them to continue doing the job. It was so nice not to have to ask Timothie. He was starting to talk about the future as a ‘we’. No, not talk, tell Owena what was happening. He just expected Owena to accept his marriage proposal at some point. She slammed her fist into the bowl a little harder than she meant to and winced at the last memory of her adopted cousin. He had been speaking to her Pa about having a wedding in the country house as soon as it was rebuilt. Owena had stomped her foot and made a scene in front of them both. Ma and Pa had since not said anything about a wedding since. She knew they thought she just needed more time.
Timothi had dropped off a gift of dried flowers or pretty bobbles every day this past week. She had left them all out on the lawn for the neighborhood children. With each gift she was determined not to marry him even more. Her Ma had told her a few years ago that she could choose her own life and she would not be bullied into nuptials.
The nuts would be ready soon for the next step. Until then, Owena grabbed the small poetry book she read religiously and curled up in her large wooden chair before the fire. Soon she was lost to anything but the verse.
