“That’s not enough on its own, but look what I found.”
Lucas kept his back to Ellie and held up two plants.
Good thing he didn’t turn around—Ellie would have caught the huge grin on his face.
A few curved tubers and a big handful of leaves.
“Wild ginger!
Right by the stream.
And sorrel leaves!
Nature’s full of free stuff—you just have to know how to use it.”
Still talking to himself, Lucas laid the big pieces of jerky on a rinsed rock.
He smashed them hard with another stone to break up the fibers, crushed the wild ginger, rubbed the juice all over the meat, and set it beside the fire.
“Yep.
Perfect temperature right here.”
Ellie couldn’t close her mouth.
“What are you even doing?”
“The protease in the ginger juice breaks down the protein fibers in the jerky and softens it fast.
The right heat speeds up the reaction.” Lucas didn’t look up.
“While we wait, I’ll fix the bread.”
Ellie stared, completely lost.
Wait—was that even English?
Half those words made zero sense.
“Too bad we got dropped out here with nothing.
I didn’t bring my kitchen kit.
Lend me the knife, Ellie.”
Thank Merlin—she finally understood one sentence.
Ellie shoved the silver-handled knife into his hand.
Lucas took it and gave it a quick, effortless twirl.
The blade flowed between his fingers like it belonged there.
He nodded, satisfied.
“Kept in great shape.
Solid carving knife.”
Ellie watched him, stunned.
The second that knife touched his hand, Lucas changed.
It looked like an extension of his arm, like he’d been using it for years.
He picked up the two hard, dry loaves, sliced them open from the side without cutting all the way through, and created pockets.
He stuffed butter inside each one, then smeared more across the tops.
The campfire heat melted the butter, letting it soak deep into the rough bread.
He rigged a quick rack out of sticks, set the loaves pocket-side up near the flames, and let them toast slowly.
The bread turned golden and crisp while the buttery aroma mixed with the smell of warm wheat.
Ellie’s stomach growled even louder.
Saliva flooded her mouth.
To cover it, she blurted, “Anything I can do to help?”
Lucas was already folding big leaves into bowls.
“Normally I wouldn’t put a guest to work.
But right now—”
He checked the jerky.
“We’re gonna need a ton of hot stones to keep the soup boiling.
Grab more firewood and roast up a bunch of small rocks for me.”
Soup?
Ellie was sure she’d misheard.
But her hands moved anyway.
Soon the fire roared higher and a pile of stones crackled softly.
Lucas dropped the stones back into the cloak-pot.
Water boiled fast.
He poured some out to get the level right, then slid the softened jerky in.
Ellie crouched behind him.
She had a perfect side view of his face in the firelight—straight nose, hazel eyes catching every flicker of flame, red hair glowing like actual fire.
Lucas kept his eyes locked on the little pot, watching the boil, adding fresh hot stones whenever it slowed.
Then he started seasoning—wrist flicking lightly, pinch of salt, even black pepper, dried thyme and rosemary from the spice pouch.
Ellie couldn’t look away.
His movements were smooth and sure, almost graceful.
The thick, meaty aroma blended with the herbs and rolled outward.
Lucas timed it perfectly and dropped in the handful of sorrel leaves.
A bright, fresh note cut through, lifting the whole scent higher.
Ellie’s stomach rumbled again.
Face burning, she pressed a hand to it.
She wanted to ask if it was ready but didn’t dare interrupt him.
This Lucas guy was seriously unfair.
Lucas covered the pot with a wide leaf lid and counted silently.
When he finally lifted it, fragrant steam exploded out.
“Done!”
Ellie swore it was the best word she’d ever heard.
A steaming bowl of meat soup waited in a leaf bowl, next to a piece of golden, crispy, butter-soaked bread.
“Slow down—it’s hot.”
Ellie mumbled something and already had a huge mouthful of soup.
Her eyes flew wide.
The soup—made from almost nothing—was rich and deep.
The deer jerky flavor blended perfectly with the herbs, and the sorrel cut every last trace of gaminess.
The ginger had removed the wild taste, turned the meat tender, and left a gentle, addictive heat.
So good.
So damn good.
She couldn’t stop.
She took several big gulps before she could even set the bowl down, then tore into the bread.
Merlin’s pants!
The hard, dry loaf she’d brought was now crispy on the outside and soft-chewy inside, all from the butter and slow fire.
Was this really the same bread?
“Try dipping the bread in the soup,” Lucas said, back still turned, holding his own bowl.
Ellie did it instantly.
She broke the crispy bread into chunks and dropped them in.
Now the soup carried wheaty and milky notes.
The soaked bread was crunchy outside, soft inside—pure satisfaction in every bite.
She didn’t say a word.
Only the sound of her devouring echoed through the trees.
Lucas listened to the happy gulps behind him, took a sip of his own soup, then frowned and sighed.
“Still not quite right.
Can’t control the heat perfectly with stones.
And that ash from the rocks ruins the flavor.”
“What the hell are you talking about!” Ellie tipped her leaf bowl upside down to get the last drops and yelled, “This is the best meat soup I’ve ever tasted!”
“Merlin’s pants!
How is this so good?
I want to swallow my own tongue!”
“Lucas, you’re a freaking super chef!
I’m in total awe!”
“There’s still some left in the pot—help yourself,” Lucas said, smiling.
“Thanks for the compliment, my guest.”
“It’s just because I’m starving.
Everything tastes amazing when you’re this hungry.
I know how it works.
This is nothing compared to real magical cuisine.
If you honestly liked it that much, once we get out of here, will you let me treat you to some actual wizard food as payback?”
“What… gulp… is magical food?” Ellie asked, scraping the last of the broth, face full of confusion.
Lucas paused.
“Uh, maybe I said it wrong.
I meant in the wizarding world—”
Ellie’s whole expression changed.
Her bright violet eyes widened in the firelight.
She dropped the leaf bowl, shot Lucas a quick “shut up” gesture, then yanked a burning stick from the fire and listened hard into the darkness.
A faint rustle came from the trees—something moving carefully through thick branches, getting closer.
The fire flared.
Ellie hurled the torch toward the sound.
The burning stick cut a bright orange arc through the air.
At the exact same second, a tight beam of brilliant white light shot from Lucas’s hand and lit up the spot.
In the sudden glare, they both saw it clearly.
A delicate girl’s face flashed behind the bushes.
Then leaves rustled, the figure vanished, and the forest fell dead silent again.