Gluttonous

Alas, I ate what Siridan handed me.

My protests against his control over me gave me meaning. Sure, for a kidnapper, he treated me humanely and gently, but that didn't suddenly invalidate his rotten personality or the reality of his actions. I didn't want to keep yielding more of my independence to him.

...But the stew he prepared for me smelled fantastic. I side-eyed him as he stirred it, and the rich, savory aroma that wafted through the small forest clearing we made our camp at forced me to ignore the empty feeling in my chest in favor of the one in my grumbling stomach.

As Siridan carefully tended to the pot suspended over the crackling campfire, my nostrils flared, greedily drinking in the scent. Caramelized onions and garlic formed an aromatic base, their sweetness complemented by the earthy tones of simmered carrots and parsnips.

Fragrant threads of rosemary and thyme danced through the heady blend, making my mouth water uncontrollably. The void in my belly cried out despite my discontent, impatient and eager to dig into a bowl once presented with one.

"Why are you mad at me, anyway? Those things would've stuck to your ass like glue if I didn't make you seem like a victim," he finally said, turning his gaze away from his cooking to look at me instead. "If I didn't snatch you and bring you along, they would've executed you for helping me or something stupid like that."

The frustration was palpable in his tone, but his demeanor remained relaxed. I carefully processed his words as he reached for the gourd on his sash and took a swig of his drink. Loathe as I was to admit it, and regardless of my best efforts to find fault in his words, he was right.

Begrudgingly, I sat up and whipped my hair, clearing out some of the dirt that stuck to it. After getting used to the easy life of a village girl, even doing as little as lying down in the forest for a bit made me feel dirty. My past self would've belittled me for acting so spoiled.

"Mm.." I pitifully eyed the deeply-colored broth in the pot, allowing an annoyed sound to slip from behind my lips. "It sounds good when you put it like that, but you kidnapped me."

His hands rose into a nonchalant and somewhat bewildered shrug, cooking spoon in one, the other stretched out. "I guess I did. Ain't I just the worst?" His smirk was smug yet exhausted. "And now the big bad killer is making your food. He's basically telling you to get stuffed! The gall!"

I crossed my arms under my chest, unamused by his sarcastic outrage and the satirical exaggeration of his mundane actions. His list of crimes extended beyond this kidnapping, even if he pretended otherwise. If not for the stew and my stomach arguing in his favor...

Rumble...

He raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm making this food for you, you know. I'm not hungry myself, but you look pale as hell. I can only assume you were enough of a moron to forget to feed yourself when you were worried about me."

Again, he was right. Again, I hated it. The last thing I wanted him to know was that I could barely bring myself to eat while he was unconscious and in my care. Knowing I was too concerned about him to care for my needs made me mad at how my brain worked.

The maddening smell filled the air again when Siridan picked a bowl up and filled it, and in my heart, I cursed myself for getting into the habit of having a proper meal every day. As Jin, I could go on for days on water alone. "Eat," he urged me – a bit more assertively that time.

I took the bowl from him, and after hesitating to take my first bite, it unfortunately did not take long for me to clean it completely. Every bite melted in my mouth and warmed up my body – and though the injury from earlier wasn't as painful as it could've been, the warmth helped soothe it as well.

He didn't watch me eat, but I noticed his shoulders slumping a little lower and his expression softening once I began scarfing down the meal, and seeing a hint of a delicate expression on his otherwise disinterested face felt so out of place after the past year.

Every time I spotted him at the inn, he always looked so empty – but it almost seemed as if I could spot a gleam of his past self shining from behind his dead-looking eyes. It was a harrowing thought – one I did not linger upon for long.

When I sheepishly looked at the pot without verbally asking for seconds, Siridan read my body language immediately, saving me from the humiliation of asking to be served more.

"The food's yours," he said dismissively, waving his hand. He then got up and turned away from me, stretching his upper body to the left. "I feel dirty, so I'll be in the river. Try not to get lost while I'm gone. I've never been good at tracking humans."

The river, huh?

I solemnly thought as I filled another bowl, now truly alone in the camp, with only the crackling of the fire to keep me company. I was further away from home than my legs could carry me, and the only person I could rely on had already killed me once before.

The forest was by no means foreign to me, but with a body unhoned to face the dangers of the dark and a potential suspicion over my presence if I were to return after being abducted, my dreams of getting to sleep in my room at the inn again were all but hopeless.

My fingers idly brushed through my hair, though they quickly gave up on it once they felt the light yet unpleasant traces of dirt. I hugged my legs to my chest and banged my head against my knees, muttering with frustration.

"Ugh. I miss my bath."