The Taste of Victory
Having dealt with the ant-wolves, Chester washed his wounds with the last of the clean water in his canteen and headed toward the river.
"Can't we dress them at home?" Monia asked, her voice laced with exhaustion.
"If the smell of blood and rot lingers around the house, it'll draw other predators right to our doorstep."
"But we're so exhausted."
"Doesn't matter. We do what needs to be done before we rest."
As soon as they reached the river, they set to work dressing their catch. They started with the easiest game: the rodents. Making a small incision in the center of the hide, they slipped their fingers inside and pulled in opposite directions, peeling the skin clean off. Once the heads and entrails were removed and tossed into a basket, they skewered the meat on thin branches.
"Let's just roast the rodents tonight," Chester suggested.
"Alright!"
Monia worked diligently by Chester's side, prepping the animals. They slit the throats and hung the carcasses from a branch near the riverbank to drain the blood. Because they used this particular branch so often, the bough—which had once been far out of reach—had gradually bowed under the weight, curving down to a perfectly convenient height. Once the blood was drained, it was time for skinning and gutting. When they had first arrived on the island, Monia couldn't even slice a piece of meat without shuddering, and the mere sight of entrails had made her retch. Now, she handled it all with practiced ease.
Yet, unlike their usual selves, both of them moved with a distinct lack of energy. They were dragging their exhausted bodies through the motions, working like clockwork automatons. To make matters worse, the sheer volume of their haul—including the heavy ant-wolves—meant the work dragged on for hours.
"Finished?" Chester asked, wiping his brow.
"Yes."
"Good. Let's head back."
Shouldering the freshly dressed meat, the two trudged back to their shelter.
"We'll carve up the larger beasts and smoke the meat. The smaller ones will be our dinner tonight."
"Sounds good to me."
"And since we're both dead tired, we can have some honey."
"Yes, please! Honey! Actual honey after all this time!"
Normally, Chester kept the honey jar hidden beneath a pile of heavy stones to keep Monia from devouring it all at once. Thus, while Monia knew exactly where it was, she lacked the physical strength to lift the barricade. Her nightly endeavors, grandly dubbed 'Operation: Midnight Honey Raid,' had met with consecutive, crushing failures. She had promised to ration it, yes. But she had never promised to abstain entirely!
How many days has it been since I last tasted a single drop?
In the beginning, Chester had used the honey as a reward, doling out a spoonful whenever she showed progress in her survival lessons. But as she grew more capable, the rewards grew increasingly sparse, leaving her with fewer and fewer opportunities to indulge.
Cruel, heartless Chester!
Yet, who would have thought that such brutal labor would yield such a sweet reward?
Perhaps calling him cruel was a bit uncalled for!
Giddy with anticipation, Monia forgot all about her aching muscles and practically skipped the rest of the way back to the shelter.
"Let's get started right away!" she urged.
"Alright."
Chester and Monia hung the skewered meat inside their makeshift smoking kiln. Once the weather had cooled and the rains had ceased, Chester had constructed a dedicated kiln to smoke meat in bulk. It was a cylindrical stone tower, hollow from top to bottom. While plastering the stones with wet clay to seal them, he had carved out several notches along the interior rim. All they had to do was rest the meat-laden branches across these notches, cover the top with a broad, flat slab of slate, and stoke a smoky fire at the bottom entrance. It was far more efficient than hovering over a small campfire, trying to fan the smoke by hand.
Once he was satisfied with the steady plume of smoke rising from the kiln, Chester stepped out from beneath the lean-to. Having watched the kiln's clay plaster wash away during the last storm, he had quickly erected a sturdy canopy over the structure and dug drainage trenches around it to ward off future downpours. It was a temporary fix, of course; he fully intended to build a more permanent smokehouse when time allowed.
But we need the breathing room first. The smokehouse could wait. Right now, his mind was consumed by the looming threat of winter, which could descend upon them at any moment.
By the time Chester finished stoking the kiln and returned to the shelter, Monia was already putting the finishing touches on dinner.
"Ah, you're back?" she asked, looking up.
"Yeah."
"All that's left is to roast it!"
Monia proudly presented her culinary creation. At a glance, it looked like ordinary rodent meat skewered on a stick, but the preparation was entirely different. She had stuffed the hollowed-out meat with a finely minced mixture of wild herbs and sweet fruits. To prevent the filling from spilling out, she had bound the meat tightly with twine. She had even gone through the trouble of soaking the twine in water beforehand so it wouldn't catch fire.
They held the skewers over the crackling campfire. Before long, the fat began to render, dripping down the meat. The stuffing inside absorbed the rich juices, roasting in the heat and releasing a burst of mouthwatering aromas.
"Oh," Chester murmured, his interest piqued.
"What do you think?"
"Smells incredible."
The savory scent of roasting meat blended beautifully with the sweet, caramelized aroma of the fruits. Cutting through the heavy richness was the subtle, refreshing fragrance of wild herbs, balancing the dish perfectly.
"I tried to recreate a dish I had once. Do you know what a dumpling is?"
"Yeah. I've seen you eat them before. Those weird, white things, right?"
"Yes! You wrap a thin layer of flour dough around a filling of various minced ingredients..." Monia chattered happily about the dumplings of her past life as she turned the skewers over the fire.
"Anyway, so! The name of this dish is—"
"Let me guess, another ridiculously long name?" Chester teased.
"Ugh. ...Fine, let's just call it 'Mouse Dumplings.'"
Chester stared at the meat. Mouse, huh. It looked a bit too large to be a mouse, but close enough.
"What was the name you actually wanted to give it?"
"A delicate pocket of meat embracing a medley of five fruits, including sugar berries, and three select herbs—"
"Right. Let's go with Mouse Dumplings."
"You're not even listening! Do you have any idea how much I struggled to find the perfect ratio of fruits to herbs?!"
A few minutes later, they snipped the charred twine off the roasted Mouse Dumplings and dug in. Since Monia had meticulously deboned the meat beforehand, they could eat without the hassle of picking out tiny bones.
"Oh."
"How is it? Tell me!" Monia leaned in, her eyes shining.
"...Yeah. Honestly, this is actually delicious."
"Yes!"
Finally! At long last, the word "delicious" had actually crossed Chester's lips! With that garbage mouth of his that eats literally anything as long as it won't kill him, he finally admitted it was delicious! She had won! Chester had finally succumbed to her culinary genius!
"Hehehe." Monia grinned triumphantly, watching Chester wolf down the food.
"Want some more? There's plenty left!"
"Oh, don't mind if I do."
They had caught quite a few rodents, and Monia had turned every single one of them into a dumpling. Thanks to her efforts, they were able to feast until their exhausted bodies were thoroughly satisfied.
"..."
The next morning, Monia opened her eyes to find herself awake before Chester—a first since their exile to the Floating Island.
"Chester?"
She crept quietly toward him. After finishing their meal the previous night, Chester had succumbed to his sheer exhaustion, falling into a dead sleep. Because he had passed out so much earlier than usual, Monia had taken it upon herself to tend to the smoking kiln and clean up the rest of the camp.
"Still asleep?"
Monia knelt softly by his side, studying his sleeping face. Since he always stayed up later than her and woke up earlier, this was only the second time she had ever seen him asleep. The first had been their very first day on the Floating Island. This was the second.
"Honestly, you make it so difficult to catch you sleeping," she whispered in a soft, barely audible murmur, terrified of waking him.
A sleeping Chester was a stark contrast to his waking self. Normally, his eyes were sharp, his jaw set, and his entire posture wound tight with constant vigilance. But in sleep, the tension melted from his face, softening his features and making him look entirely different.
"..."
Watching him snore softly, Monia reached out and gently brushed away a stray lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes.
"If we ever leave this island... will you look like this more often?"
Was he only this guarded because of the Floating Island? If they returned to civilization, would he be different? Or... Monia realized with a pang that she couldn't even remember what Chester's face had looked like when he was her butler. She had never cared enough to look. Despite the years he had spent serving her, her real memories of him had only begun the moment they were cast away on this island.
It's a bit of a shame. She found herself wishing she had known him better back in the kingdom.
"You know... I'm truly grateful."
Originally, Chester was meant to be executed along with the rest of her household. But Jordy, convinced that Monia and Chester were the masterminds behind Tiara's torment, had bound their fates together and banished them to the Floating Island. He had wanted them to suffer a slow, agonizing death.
"If you hadn't been here... I would have died on the very first day."
It was solely because of Chester that she was still breathing. From the moment they were cast onto the shores of the Floating Island to this very second, she wouldn't have lasted a single day without him.
"Thank you. Truly."
Monia murmured her gratitude over and over, her eyes tracing his sleeping features. She remembered how desperately he had fought the ant-wolves yesterday. The deep gash on his shoulder, the raw scrape on his elbow, the bruises mottling his skin... Every time she looked at his wounds, a lump formed in her throat. And yet, looking at his battered, muscular frame stirred a strange, unfamiliar sensation deep within her. She had felt hints of it before, but now, it was growing too intense to ignore. Her heart. Her life wasn't in danger, yet her chest throbbed with a frantic, pounding rhythm.
"...What is wrong with me?"
Suffocated by the sudden rush of emotion, Monia let out a shaky, hot breath. She buried her burning face in her arms, hiding herself, before slowly peeking out with just one eye to steal another glance at him.
This was entirely different from the cold sense of duty she had felt toward Prince Jordy, the man her father had forced her to be betrothed to since childhood. This was an impulse so fierce it threatened to scatter her reason—a desperate, magnetic pull drawing her toward the man beside her.
It was the beginning of her first love.