Chapter 283: Purple Pockets, Pick Tooths, and the Fox Den That Refused to Be Ordinary
Chapter 283: Purple Pockets, Pick Tooths, and the Fox Den That Refused to Be Ordinary
Elyn’s POV
The next stall we reached was run by a beast demon.
She was half eagle, half human — well, as human as Zorathys looked, anyway. Her lower half was wrapped in soft, dark feathers that shifted when she moved, blending into a long tail that swept the ground behind her. Her upper half was lean and sharp-featured, with eyes the color of amber and hair that fell in dark waves past her shoulders. Large wings were folded neatly against her back, the feathers at the edges catching the light and shimmering in shades of bronze and gold.
But none of that was what caught my attention.
It was the smell.
Sweet. Warm. Almost floral, but richer somehow, like honey and something else I couldn’t name. It curled through the air and wrapped around me before I even reached the stall.
I stepped closer and watched as she worked.
A large pot sat on a heated stone at the center of her stall, steam rising from it in thick, curling clouds. Inside, small round dumplings bobbed gently in the liquid, their surfaces pale and soft. She used a long pair of wooden tongs to lift them out one by one, transferring them to a flat surface that looked like pressed fibers, sturdy enough to hold its shape, soft enough to fold.
The dumplings glistened as they cooled, steam still rising from their surfaces.
Then she took a small jar and sprinkled something over them — a fine, pale powder that caught the light and sparkled faintly before settling into the soft exterior. And then, with a small brush, she added a streak of deep purple glaze across each one. The color was vibrant, almost glowing against the pale dumplings.
She placed a small container beside the plate.
"Pick tooths," she said, gesturing to the thin wooden sticks inside. "For picking."
I almost laughed.
Actually, I did laugh.
Toothpicks. In the demon realm. Of all the things I had expected to see here, toothpicks had not made the list. And why the play on words? First it was flop-flips and now pick tooths?
Zorathys glanced at me. "What?"
"Nothing," I said, still smiling. "Just... nothing."
He gave me a look but didn’t push.
The stall owner finished arranging the snacks and stepped back, her amber eyes watching us expectantly. The steam curled upward, carrying that sweet smell with it, and the children pressed closer, their eyes fixed on the dumplings.
Zorathys stepped forward.
"I’ll take three each for eight," he said.
The stall owner nodded and immediately began preparing more. She reached into a large clay bowl beside her and pulled out small portions of dough — soft and pale, already mixed and waiting. She rolled them between her palms until they formed perfect little spheres, then dropped them into the pot one by one.
They sank at first, disappearing beneath the surface of the liquid. Then, slowly, they rose again — bobbing gently as they cooked, their surfaces shifting from pale to translucent.
The children watched in fascination.
Even I found myself leaning forward slightly.
When the dumplings were ready, she lifted them out with her tongs and placed them onto fresh cartons, three for each child and me too. Then she sprinkled the sparkling powder over them, added the purple glaze, and handed each child a pick tooth.
Azerion grabbed his immediately and stabbed a dumpling. He blew on it once — twice — then popped it into his mouth.
His eyes went wide.
"Good?" I asked.
He nodded vigorously, already reaching for another.
The others followed suit, their pick tooths moving quickly as they ate.
But Zorathys stood back.
He had paid for all of them, but he hadn’t taken a single carton for himself. He just watched, his expression neutral, his hands clasped loosely behind his back.
"Zorathys," I said.
He looked at me.
"Aren’t you going to eat?"
"No," he said simply.
"You don’t eat, or you don’t want to eat this?"
He didn’t answer.
Which was an answer.
I sighed.
"You should try one," I said.
His expression shifted slightly — something between reluctance and mild offense.
"I don’t need to," he said.
"You don’t need to," I agreed. "But I want you to."
He stared at me.
I stared back.
The children had stopped eating. They were watching us now, their pick tooths suspended mid-air, their eyes moving between me and Zorathys like they were watching something far more interesting than snacks.
Zorathys sighed.
It was a long, dramatic sound, the kind that suggested he was making a great sacrifice.
"Fine," he said.
I smiled.
I picked up a pick tooth from the container and speared one of the dumplings. The steam curled around my fingers as I lifted it, the purple glaze catching the light. I held it up to his mouth.
He looked at it.
Then at me.
Then at the dumpling again.
"Zorathys," I said.
"Firefly," he replied.
"Open your mouth."
He sighed but did so.
I placed the dumpling inside, and he closed his lips around the pick tooth. His teeth sank into the soft exterior, and then he chewed.
Slowly and perhaps thoughtfully.
Like he was analyzing every single component of what he had just put into his mouth — as always when it came to food.
I watched his face.
His eyes were focused on something in the distance, but I could see him tasting it. Processing it. Deciding.
"Well?" I asked.
He chewed for a moment longer, then swallowed.
"It doesn’t taste bad," he said.
That was enough.
I beamed at him.
Then I turned to the stall owner.
"What are these called?" I asked.
The eagle demon smiled, her amber eyes crinkling at the edges.
"Purple pockets," she said. "They are made from Purapita root that grows only in the high cliffs of the Golemhold Territory. We soak it overnight in sweetened dew, then steam it until it softens. The purple glaze is from crushed starberries."
I nodded, a smile on my face.
"Can I have two more?" I asked.
The stall owner nodded, immediately pulling out more dough and rolling it between her palms. She dropped the fresh dumplings into the pot, waited for them to rise, then lifted them out and prepared them with the powder and glaze.
She handed me the carton, and I gave her three gabin.
Then I turned to Zorathys and held out the carton.
He looked at it.
Then at me.
"What is this?" he asked.