The following day, Ashlynn dutifully slept until the afternoon sun had turned soft and golden, shining through the vale's mists in soft edged rays of pale light.
On her terrace, overlooking the valley beyond the ancient fortress walls, Ashlynn sat with Virve while they enjoyed a sumptuous feast prepared by an enthusiastic Georg. The bearish chef had used every technique at his disposal to assemble the flavors of fall in the Vale and place them all on artfully arranged plates for his most prestigious student and the soon-to-be Oak Witch.
Sitting across the table from her, Virve dispensed with knife and fork, using her claws directly to disassemble the soft duck breast that had been slow clooked in its own fat along with fresh herbs and sharp pepper corns, resulting in a texture so delicate that it melted on the tongue like butter, with a flavor so rich that Ashlynn had struggled to eat more than a few bites of her before moving on to lighter dishes.
