Periwinkle's Arc

Chapter 1 of 17

Periwinkle wanted to build a bakery in the forest, a place where lost travelers could rest and eat warm bread. But she stood in a clearing with a wooden bowl of dough in her arms, and she had nowhere to put it. The wind pushed cold air across the flour. Dust settled on the wet surface. She knew the dough would dry and crack before it ever rose. She needed a roof, a wall, anything that kept the weather out. She set the bowl on a flat stone and walked the clearing. She checked under the tall trees. She checked the gaps between roots. Every spot let the wind through. A thin rain began to fall, and the drops speckled her dough. She covered the bowl with her apron and crouched over it. Her hands shook from the cold. She had carried flour, salt, and yeast for two days to reach this forest. Now all of it would spoil. "You've picked a hard place to bake," a voice said. Periwinkle looked up. A woman stood at the edge of the clearing. Pale hair fell past her waist. Wide wings rose behind her, gray and bright at the tips. Rain fell around her but seemed to slide away from her robes. She did not walk closer. She only watched, calm, her head tilted. "My dough is dying," Periwinkle said. "I have no shelter." The winged woman raised one arm and pointed past the trees. "Follow the slope down. There is an old hollow cut into the hillside. Travelers used to sleep there. The roof still holds." Periwinkle hesitated. "Why help me?" "Because you mean to feed the ones who wander here," the woman said. "I have watched them pass hungry for a long time." Periwinkle grabbed her bowl and ran down the slope. The ground fell away into a bank of earth and stone. There, set into the hillside, she found the hollow. A low stone roof covered a dry room. The wind died the moment she stepped inside. She pressed her hand to the dough. It was still soft. Still alive. She turned to thank the woman, but the clearing above was empty. Only the rain remained. Periwinkle set the bowl on a dry ledge and covered it with a cloth. Her bakery had a shelter now. But the hollow was bare. There was no oven inside, no hearth, no fire of any kind. She ran her hand along the cold wall and understood the next problem. Dough could rise here. Bread could not bake without heat, and she had brought no way to make it.