Fiction
A very short scene after the last game.
The smell of yeast and the feel of the soft dough between her hands reminded her of happier times, cooking spicebread with her mother, before the war tore her life apart. The attacks at the Gala had shaken her control, reminding her of the horrors she had witnessed during the war. The simple disclipline of cooking, with the precise measuring of ingredients, provided her with a focus, something to concentrate on while she forced the memories back into the past where they belonged. No matter how many years passed she could not forget the scared child she had once been, hiding in the dark, terrified the monsters would find her.
With a sigh she slid the latest tray into the oven and glanced around her kitchen. its every surface already covered with cooling bakery. Her control was still too uncertain for her comfort, the memories still too vivid. She reached for the tub of suger and the mixing bowl. This was going to be a long night.
The smell of yeast and the feel of the soft dough between her hands reminded her of happier times, cooking spicebread with her mother, before the war tore her life apart. The attacks at the Gala had shaken her control, reminding her of the horrors she had witnessed during the war. The simple disclipline of cooking, with the precise measuring of ingredients, provided her with a focus, something to concentrate on while she forced the memories back into the past where they belonged. No matter how many years passed she could not forget the scared child she had once been, hiding in the dark, terrified the monsters would find her.
With a sigh she slid the latest tray into the oven and glanced around her kitchen. its every surface already covered with cooling bakery. Her control was still too uncertain for her comfort, the memories still too vivid. She reached for the tub of suger and the mixing bowl. This was going to be a long night.