Submission (#8167) Approved

A soft sea breeze drifted through the open window of the little coastal cottage where Cinder, Greywind and Shiro had settled after their harvest in Ealei. The cottage smelled of salt and manaberries, its windows trimmed with driftwood, intricate coral patterns carved into it and bunting that displayed the colors of the ocean strung across the walls. Outside, wooden walkways and boats bobbed beneath Yggdrasils roots and the sound of distant laughter mixed with the soft splashing waves as the late morning sun warmed up the Eldertree. 

Shiro perched on a low stool near the kitchen table scattered with fruits: blue manaberries, sunberries, oceanpears, and a few leftover juiceberries. Cinder stood beside him in a yellow apron, while Greywind leaned against the counter, arms crossed, observing.

“Okay, little chef,” Cinder began gently, washing his paws in a basin of herbal water. “We’re going to bake a manaberry tart. It’s simple; but it’s important to respect the ingredients.”

Shiro beamed. “I love baking! It’s like making tiny edible stars!” He scrunched his nose at the fruit and sniffed the air. “Stars that smell like sugar and sun.”

“First: always wash your fruit. There might be grit, dust or sugarbeetle residue.”

Shiro dipped two berries in water, but splashed enthusiastically enough to soak his fluffy cheeks. Cinder chuckled while drying him off.

“Lesson one: gentle. Rinsing, not dunking.”

Shiro nodded earnestly, carefully swirling the berries this time.

Cinder placed the rinsed fruit in a bowl. “Next: cut uniform pieces. That way it bakes evenly.”

Shiro tried to halve a manaberry with a butter knife. The berry rolled off the board mid‑squish. He chased it and caught it with his paw.

“Don’t let it escape.” Greywind said with a soft chuckle. 

Cinder helped arrange slices on the pastry. “Great job. Let’s re‑roll the dough, shall we?”

They showed Shiro how to roll dough - light pressure, turn on every ninety degrees. Shiro attempted and ended up with an accidental crescent-shaped tart base.

Greywind took one look. “Artisan.”

Cinder smiled. “We’ll call it... ‘free‑form’. Now, gently sink the berries into the base; and don’t overload.”

Shiro piled berries like jewels in a crown. “Isn’t more better?”

Cinder didn’t correct him this time; he opened his mouth, paused... smiled. Then very slowly pulled a few off to even them out. “Balance, not excess.”

Greywind added quietly, “Balance is important.”

Once the berries were arranged, Cinder brushed egg wash on the crust to encourage a golden glaze. Shiro licked a tiny bit; mostly curious, but Cinder caught him and gently pushed him away without scolding. “A nibble is fine when you’re tasting, not when you’re finishing.”

They slid the tart into a little stone oven built into the cottage wall. It hissed, heat wafted. Shiro hopped with anticipation while Greywind cleaned up quietly as Cinder kept an eye on the baking time.

“How long do we wait?” Shiro asked.

“Until we can smell honeyed warmth,” Cinder said, softly. “At that point, open the vent to release steam; don’t blast it all at once.” Shiro looked at him confused and Cinder chuckled. “About 25 minutes.” 

The kittom leaned forward, eyes half‑closed, smiling at the scent rising. Around him, the cottage felt warm and cozy. Outside, the birds sang overhead.

Once the tart emerged - a glossy masterpiece of molten fruit - Cinder let it cool for a while. They sat in the window nook, discussing how the baking lesson went; things to look out for, things to improve… things Shiro did well. 

“Try a bite” Greywind offered, surprisingly gentle. 

Shiro picked a slice, purple juice dripping down his chin. His eyes widened. “It’s like… sunshine on a tongue!”, which made the adults laugh. Sheepishly, Shiro curled into Cinders side. “Thank you for teaching me.”

[...]

A couple of days later, Cinder and Greywind visited Skyhaven; leaving Shiro to spend the day with Yuji and Subaru. From their cozy boatside herb cabin to hidden tide‑pools and soft reef edges, Shiro learned about potions and healing under gentle guidance.

Yuji welcomed him with a soft smile and a large basket filled with flowering herbs: sea‑mint blossoms, coral‑vine petals, sponge‑moss and tiny cliff‑berries used in salves. Yujis fur shimmered in the direct sunlight and he wore a little green scarf tied around his neck; he was recovering from a persistent cold. Subaru stood quietly nearby, observing with careful eyes.

“Let’s go gather some more,” Yuji whispered softly. “Some healing potions need fresh ingredients.”

Shiro bounced to his paws. “Oh! I want to help pick!”

Yuji showed him a patch of sea‑mint growing tangled in root‑hairs anchored just above the tide on the root of Yggdrasil. “Careful, the roots are firm, but the rocks can be slippery. Rotate your grip.”

Shiro nodded, crouched and plucked mint blossoms with practiced care. He offered one to Subaru, who gently sniffed it, raised an approving nod.

Yuji explained the importance: “Sea‑mint is cooling and helps to calm fevers, while coral‑vine is good for irritated eyes.”

Shiro took each plant and inspected it like treasure. At one point a tiny reef crab scuttled across his paw. He froze. Yuji approached and showed Shiro how to coax it gently into a leaf and release it back into shallow water.

“It’s alive, too,” Yuji whispered. “Every part matters.”

Shiro nodded solemnly and Subaru chuckled softly behind him.

Once their basket brimmed, they returned to the herb cabin. Yuji showed Shiro how to lay petals to dry, crush mint leaves between smooth stones and steep coral‑vine in mana‑infused water over gentle heat.

Shiro crouched close, watching the steam rise in wisps. “It smells... warm.”

Yuji explained patiently: “Yes, but not hot. Gentle warmth preserves potency.”

While Yuji mixed the potion - adding the distilled essence drop by drop - Subaru quietly kept watch at the window, listening for trouble or ensuring nothing bumped the table.

Shiro pressed his nose to a vial once it was sealed. “What does it do again?”

Yuji tossed him a small feather. “Shake and tab once, then apply near the ears. It helps clear heat from the head, and when ingested it can settle an upset tummy. On the downside, it can lead to nightmares if you drink too much. 

Shiro grinned. He waggled the potion. “Tap, shake, heal.”

Yuji nodded. “Yes. But first; we test it on leaves or petals, not paws.”

They did and the mixture darkened, a faint glow bridging the moment.

Suddenly, Subaru cleared his throat softly. “Yuji?”

“Yes?”

“Your furnace is low.”

Shiro turned: Yuji had the fire nearly out. The water was simmering too low, the concoction nearly cooled into sludge. Subaru quietly fetched a handful of coral‑coal embers and rekindled the flame, giving it a boost. The process resumed with a steadier boil.

Shiro watched with respect. “Teamwork.”

Yuji smiled at Subaru. Shiros chest warmed with affection for both of them.

They filled small vials and then labeled them with soft wax stamps. Shiro helped arrange them in lines. “Like a tiny potions parade.”

Yuji laughed quietly.

Subaru nodded, before looking at Shiro fondly. “You’re good company.” He didn’t say much, but every glance was kind.

[...] 

Cinder and Greywind returned to the herb cabin later that evening. They found Shiro fast asleep on a patchwork mat of drying petals, vials lined neatly on a low table. Yuji sat quietly nearby, Subaru watching the door.

Greywind blinked at the sight. Cinder smiled, brushing a paw across Shiros ear, very softly.

Shiro stirred, blinking confused. “Birds singing...and tastes of mint... we did good?”, he murmured, half-asleep.

Cinder hoisted him gently upright. “You did wonderfully. Yuji, Subaru; thank you both so much for looking after him.”

Yuji smiled faintly while Subaru offered a nod. “Anytime.”

Shiro gasped. “I learned so much!”

Greywind lifted him onto his shoulder. “And you stayed safe?”

Shiro nodded enthusiastically. “We did cooking and potion brewing and herb‑gathering and we didn’t burn down the cabin!”

Cinder chuckled. “A perfect day, I’d say.”