Chapter 17: EVERYONE.
They stepped into the kitchen, a low-ceilinged stone room lined with old cabinets and two wood-burning stoves. Steam hissed from a giant pot in the corner. And there she was, Nana. Stooped over a chopping board with a rusted cleaver in her hand, apron covered in flour and broth stains, her silver hair tied in a loose bun.
"You two finally decided to join the living?"
"Sorry, Nana."
"Sleep’s a luxury for folks who don’t need to chop vegetables."
She pointed the cleaver toward the counter.
"Get to it. And don’t you dare mess up the carrots again, Jiana."
"That was one time!"
"One very mushy time."
Johnquis grabbed the basket of potatoes. Jiana took the carrots. Side by side, they began peeling in silence, only the sound of the fire crackling and blades tapping the cutting board filling the room.
Jiana whispered,
"You think it’ll be stew again?"