We trundled out through the city, Brilda slowly leading the way. She seemed a little unsure of where to go until Foxy took the lead. It took us a good ten minutes but by the end, we reached a small park area in the middle of a neighbourhood. The place had a few trees haphazardly separating a clean-cut meadow from the streets. Children were playing with balls, sticks and whatever else caught their fancy while the parents observed and occasionally intervened. There was a small water feature a little off-centre showing a wolf and some bird of prey.

“Are those Iridan and Drow?”, Nymph asked.

“Yes”, the fox answered, “They’ve got a statue in pretty much every city, I’ve heard.”

“That does not surprise me. The first Guardians are very revered.”

“Did you ever meet them?”

“No.”

“The first Guardians?”, I asked.

“Indeed. These two live rather close to one another. Iridan the wolf, has a metal and earth node and guided the dwarves in their early metallurgy, while Drow the falcon kept the small towns from back then defended and supplied”, Nymph explained.

“How long ago was that?”

“A few years before my time, or so I heard. Around four centuries? And before you ask: Yes, they are still alive.”

“Nymph is one of the second Guardians”, Brilda jumped in, “She guided the dwarves to agriculture. Or so I heard…”

“I would not quite call it guided. I simply supplied a sufficient base for them to figure it out. Not that I really knew anything about agriculture back then.”

“The orks already had it figured out, right?”, I asked, “Did the Progenitor bring along any knowledge?”

“The what now?”, Foxy blinked.

“I assume so but I never met them”, Nymph said, “I do not even know if they are still around.”

“A Progenitor, an evolved individual who has children only of their own kind”, I answered Foxy’s question.

The canine shook his head and laid down in the grass.

“Right. This is where we often spend our free time. If it’s sunny, at least”, Brilda said.

“Pleasant”, Nymph nodded, “Yes, I know this garden.”

“You do?”

“Every plant rooted in the earth within the City Walls is connected to my grove.”

“Wait, like the farms and stuff?”, Brilda asked.

“The City Walls, not the outer walls. Around the farms and in the nearby forest I only have a few trees here and there to keep an eye on things.”

Nymph jumped off my head, landing in a nearby bush. Some leaves grew in size to make a more comfortable seat. I turned to her.

“You can sense stuff through trees?”

“Only if they are part of my grove. Serrington, the city itself, is my grove. The small place in the Comraich is only my personal home.”

“They why would you need a guide?”

“Truthfully, my [Grove Sense] does not give me something as convenient as vision. I simply know if things are fine or not. It takes some considerable focus to get any details so I usually let my Protectors deal with any problems, including figuring out what is wrong in the first place.”

“Maybe on the next Breakthrough, huh?”, I mused.

“Potentially.”

From there, we settled into enjoying the sun. The sky was mostly blue with a few white puffs occasionally trying, and failing, to donate some shadow. In this early spring, nobody was really bothered by it, though. There was no bite to the sun quite yet.

Some of the dwarves from around came up and talked to us, or Foxy and Brilda, mostly. The two were well known and many were interested in getting to know me as well. Nymph was never really noticed, with the exception of one boy who tried to catch the ‘pretty insect’. She simply dodged into the bush while the mother dragged the child away from us.

That made Nymph move back onto my head and ask to see more of the city. It seemed like she was still rather skittish around most larger sapients.

The rest of the day ended up vanishing in the library. I had suggested it, everyone jumping on the idea to get away from the crowds. I took a private room with my lifelong membership and invited my friends inside after we had a librarian bring us some books on interesting topics. Once evening came, Brilda was the only one who had remembered our reservation. Reluctantly, we separated from our reading and made our way to the restaurant.

The building was almost like any dwarven house in the city. Walls of stone were carved with patterns and images, someone eternalizing several meals in the grey material. It had been painted over to realize a truly appetizing image. The house was four stories tall, just like its neighbours, but only the bottom two were the restaurant. On the third they had a storehouse for food and the top floor was the owners’ living area. The major difference to the other buildings was the width. It looked like someone had combined the footprint of three normal houses into one.

We entered through the front door, a waitress greeting us. She spoke with Brilda for a bit before the beaver lead us to the second floor. Up there, several rooms for more private dinner parties were set aside, one of which we entered. The design was simple, for dwarven craftsmanship. Sturdy furniture from wood carved with fancy patterns and more images of food and cooking on the walls. It looked like this particular table would normally be used for a dozen dwarves instead of just the four of us. The restaurant had put a comfortable cover on top with a set of stairs leading up. Pillows and blankets were placed around a sturdy wooden plate that had been decorated with the usual restaurant fare. A few candles, a vase with some flowers, some decorative figures of animals and other such things. I noticed a miniature falcon and wolf looking very similar to the larger version in the park earlier.

“Let’s make ourselves comfortable”, Brilda said, “There are no tables for animals, so they adjusted this place.”

“It looks quite nice”, I said.

“Thank you. Now, if everyone tells me what they like to eat, I can have the chef prepare something suitable.”

We gave her the information one by one, including drinks, which Brilda then relayed to the waitress. A few minutes later we had our beverages. It was tea for everyone. Fruit tea. The beverage seemed to be making the rounds. I and Nymph had my favourite berry mix with Brilda going for citrus and Foxy taking the ginger and lemon blend. After everyone had a few content sips, we got back to talking.

“What do you do when you work here, Brilda?”, Nymph asked.

“I primarily prepare sides. Fried potatoes or vegetables, noodles, salad. Things like that. I have the rank of assistant chef. That means, I don’t have to do any peeling and only some cutting but I’m not working on the main parts, like sauces and meat. I also make a soup that is served as appetizer, most of the time.”

“That seems like a lot of work.”

“It is. But I like it. And the customers like it as well, I hear. At least I’m just as good as the dwarven chefs.”

“She cooks for herself quite often, at home”, Foxy said, “But I prefer my meat raw, usually.”

“I get that”, I said.

“What do you think we are going to be served?”, Nymph asked. I could see her excitement in the way her scythes twitched.

“I believe…”

Brilda was interrupted by the door opening and two dwarves walking in carrying four plates and a few bowls of food. They placed everything on the table and left with a nod.

“Here you are, everyone! Please enjoy!”, the waitress said before closing the door.

I looked at the board covered in dishes. Most of it was meat with three of us eating nothing else, usually. Brilda had a number of bowls in front of her with differently prepared vegetables. There was deep-fried stuff, a soup, something that looked like a casserole and a salad. The meat was separated into two. Nymph had a number of bowls with fried insects of different kinds as well as some raw beef in ultra-thin slices in front of her. It was called carpaccio if I remembered correctly. Foxy and I had a very similar choice of lightly fried steaks, chicken and meatballs dripping with juice.

“Quite interesting”, Nymph mused before starting to dig in.

Not to be outdone, I made for my food as well. I found it was spiced very slightly with a little bit of salt, nothing else. The steak was already cut into slices I could easily eat without making a mess. With how bloody it still was, it would be hard to even call it rare. It was just barely fried long enough to soak in the salt and heat. Most people would never enjoy it. For me, it was perfect. The warmth flowed into my body reminding me of a freshly hunted critter. Only, the juicy blood pressed directly onto my tongue instead of being blocked by pelt and skin. The thin cuts made it much easier to swallow and I barely felt like I was actually ingesting sustenance. This felt more like drinking a meaty tea. It was wonderful.

The chicken was equally good, even though it had been fried for a little longer. The small diced cuts were still a light pink on the inside but a little cross on the outside. That texture made for something slightly more difficult to swallow which made me feel like I was finally eating. The meatballs exacerbated on that impression unless I cut them in half before which made the meat crumble and slide down my throat gracefully.

Before I knew it, my plates were empty. I had not enjoyed eating this much since I was born into this world. The combination of being sated and having actual taste brought me enjoyment I had not expected to ever again feel from food.

I looked around at the others. Foxy was still enjoying his meatballs, taking a little more time with them. He was chewing or at least mashing the food with his tongue, so of course, he would take longer. Nymph had tasted at least some from every bowl and looked to be contemplating if she wanted to have more or was already sated. Brilda seemed the furthest away from finishing, only having gone through half her food and still going strong.

I sunk back onto the pillow I was resting on, nearly closing my eyes. It took Nymph a few moments to decide she was finished as well before she turned to me.

“This was quite the experience”, she sent.

“Yes. It was good.”

“That it was. Sadly, my small body can not eat this much.”

“I noticed. Maybe you can take them back?”

“Really?”, she perked up, “That is possible?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Hey, Brilda!”

“Yes. You can. I’ll have it packed later.”

“That would be wonderful!”, Nymph sent along with a feeling of happiness.

At that moment, Foxy laid down on his blanket with a gourmandizing growl.

“That was wonderful. We should really come here more often”, he said.

“Or you could let me make your food as well”, Brilda suggested.

“Nah. There’s a reason you’re only making veggies here. You don’t know what’s good meat.”

“Pah. You don’t know what you’re missing!”

“I do, in fact. I simply don’t like greens.”

“And yet you still love stealing my berries.”

“Well, yes. Those aren’t green.”

The arctic fox grinned, showing his fangs full of meaty juices. Brilda interrupted her meal just long enough to yip at him. Laughter broke out all around, everyone in their own animal voice.

This had been a wonderful experience. I hoped Nymph was enjoying herself as much as she looked it.