Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) by Aron Sethlen Page B

licking his knife like a dog, attempting to get every last bit of bacon residue off the metal blade. “Would think the fool would be on the cart waiting for us with all his damned soldiering talk.”
    Nala peers up the ladder leading to the loft. “Hey, bear slayer! Get your lazy ass moving, or you’re not eating.”
    A loud thud echoes as if Yaz falls on the floor. “I said I’m coming.”
    As Preta flips the golden-brown bread, she eyes the bacon and imagines the taste. She snatches a strip off the skillet and stuffs it in her mouth. Preta vocally sucks air in and out in short huffs to cool it off. She peeks back at the ladder to see if Nala saw her.
    “What are you looking at?” Nala says, swinging a rag as she strolls toward her.
    Preta innocently shrugs, spins back toward the burning coals, grins, and chews her bacon in victory.
    Nala wraps cured meat along with a full loaf of bread into a bundle and places them into a wicker basket. She moves to the fireplace and nods. “Those are done, remove them, and place them on the table.”
    Preta carefully plucks the bread off one piece at a time, and stacks them in a pyramid configuration on a large copper plate. She carries the plate to the table, holding it a few inches from her nose. The aroma overwhelms Preta’s senses, and her palate tingles, forming drool in the corners of her mouth.
    Grandpa extends his knife, waiting for the plate to hit the table. “Looks great, girls. Let’s eat.”
    Yaz plops down in a chair. “I’m here.”
    “Well, aren’t we privileged,” Nala says.
    Yaz sneers. “Shut up.”
    Silence befalls Preta and the others, too busy filling their plates and mouths to care for anything else. The bacon mound and pyramid of bread disappears within minutes.
    Finished, Preta sits back with content satisfaction and in a drunken food daze. She watches Deet and Yaz stare with drowsy eyes at their empty plates.
    Grandpa picks his teeth with a wooden toothpick while making a sucking noise every few seconds.
    Nala plunges her arms in and out of a large metal tub filled with soapy water and dishes. She claps her hands and the water sprays into the air. “No resting, let’s go.” Nala steps between Deet and Yaz and smacks the table, making them jump. “Move, boys, get the cart ready.” She tosses Preta a handful of water pouches. “Fill them up.”
    Deet presses off the table, grabs his pack by the door, and goes outside.
    Preta scoffs as she watches Yaz snoring with his eyes closed.
    Yaz’s head twitches, and he snorts and then licks his lips.
    Preta rolls her eyes at Nala.
    With expert skill and blazing speed, Nala snatches a long wooden spoon and whips it across the entire room, striking Yaz’s head.
    Yaz springs to his feet. “What the heck? Ouch .”
    “ See ? I can hit a dense block of wood all day too, now get your butt moving.”
    “Funny, funny.” Yaz rubs his head as he staggers toward the front door. “My head’s not wood, stupid.” Yaz slams the front door shut.
    Nala flicks her hair. “I don’t know about that, sure sounded like wood to me.”
    Preta giggles and grabs her backpack. She fills the water pouches at the well and heads to the cart.
    The boys are arguing the merits of conscription and training as Preta climbs into the backseat.
    Nala hands the wicker basket to Preta.
    Deet looks at everyone. “Everybody got everything?”
    “We’re good to go,” Nala says.
    Leaving the Penter property, the boys argue, and Nala joins the action.
    Preta peers into the forest, getting lost in the rhythm of the passing trees. She lies flat on her back as she gazes up at the sky. Geese fly in formation, and the sun peeks over the horizon, warming Preta’s body and the cool air. Clouds appear above, forming shapes and morphing into new ones.
    “We’re here,” Nala says, tapping Preta on the shoulder.
    Preta sits up as the cart enters Waighton Square.
    Women travel in every direction, though most men travel the same road heading