Page 15 of Orc'd & Loaded
I drop to one knee. They smack into my palms simultaneously. I toss both over my shoulder without looking. The soft thump of canvas tells me she caught them.
"Three more on the roof of the bakery. They'll come down on the north side."
I am already running. They drop in a cascade, one after another, and I catch them like falling fruit, cradling each against me before turning to find her right behind me, sack gapingopen, jaw set, eyes bright with something that is not quite anger anymore.
We work the street in widening circles. Sweat soaks through my apron. Her chef coat is beyond salvation, more gold than white now, the sleeves pushed above her elbows. Every time she makes a difficult catch, a sharp, involuntary grin flashes across her face before she kills it.
She does not want me to see her enjoying this.
I see it anyway.
Twenty minutes. Four full grain sacks cinched tight and lined up against the wall of my tavern like sandbags. Solene counts under her breath, fingers tapping against each bulge of canvas.
"Sixty-eight." She straightens. Scans the street. "We're four short."
A distantthwackechoes from somewhere behind the hardware store.
We look at each other.
"Together?" I hold up the last empty sack.
She pushes her ruined hair out of her face and nods once.
We find the last four behind the hardware store, bouncing in a sad little cluster against the dumpster like they have given up on escape. Solene bags them without ceremony. I carry the sack back to the tavern. We dump the full haul into the ice bin, the overflow tub, and a repurposed beer cooler that Tavvi dragged out from storage.
Seventy-two mushrooms. Accounted for. Still.
Solene stands in my bar, golden spore dust settling in her hair, her chef coat looking like she rolled through a pollen factory, and does something I do not expect.
She says thank you.
Quietly. Almost under her breath. Then she grabs the handle of the beer cooler and starts dragging it toward the door.
"Rostova."
She stops.
"Those mushrooms. The enchanted ones. What were you planning to do with them?"
"A terrine. Layered with black garlic mousse and a smoked kelp reduction. For the festival."
I lean against the bar. "That sounds..."
"If you say weird, I will put this cooler through your front window."
"I was going to say ambitious."
Her grip loosens on the handle. Just slightly.
"Let me ask you something." The leather apron creaks. "You think your food is better than mine?"
"I know my food is better than yours."
No hesitation. Not even a blink.
"Prove it."
She turns fully. "Excuse me?"
