Minerva Doodle's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Minerva wakes before the alarm and lies still for three breaths before forcing herself upright. The dark outside her window holds that particular quality of pre-dawn cold that makes her grateful for work waiting. Someone is coming to the farm today. Someone who needs help living above ground. She lights the stone grill while stars still show overhead. The wood catches fast, seasoned and split to the right size. On the table beside it she arranges cuts of meat in order of thickness. Bacon first, then chops, then the tougher rounds that need slow heat. This is how you teach fire control. This is how you show someone the difference between surviving and actually cooking. The chickens start their noise as gray light spreads across the yard. The pigs shift and grunt in their pen. Minerva built all of this after he died, though she won't say that part out loud. She needed animals that depended on morning. She needed a reason to be outside before she could think. Bexley arrives as the bacon starts to sizzle. Minerva watches her walk up the path, blinking against the open sky like it might fall on her. The coffee is ready. The fire is hot. Minerva gestures to the table and the grill and says, "We start with breakfast." For the first time in months, someone else will eat the food she cooks.