Chapter Text
The morning glow filtered through the window and onto Cozyshot's face, eventually managing to wake them.
“I definitely need to buy some curtains...” they mumbled, slowly rubbing the sleep from their eyes.
After stretching and lingering for a few minutes, they finally got up and began their day. The kitchen was still unfamiliar, but that just meant more opportunities to learn their way around the house.
They grabbed a cast-iron skillet from a hanger above the stovetop, fished a few eggs out of a half-unpacked crate, and began cooking.
The familiar crack of an eggshell echoed through the quiet house. They cracked one egg. Then another, and so on. Maybe three eggs had been a bit excessive?
Cozyshot really wasn't one to complain, though. The smell of breakfast quickly filled the room.
It was nice, peaceful even, the kind of morning they hadn't realized they were missing.
They stared at a nearby window on their way to the kitchen table.
The snow never let up in this town, usually falling in a slow, steady drift. The rooftops and pathways were covered in a fresh layer of white, and the village seemed much livelier than it had the previous evening. A few inphernals were already outside, chatting amongst themselves as they shoveled walkways or carried supplies between buildings.
Cozyshot smiled softly.
Maybe moving here was the right decision after all.
Once breakfast was finished, they carried their plate over to the sink. It was spotless for now, but once their siblings were here… it'd surely pile up more.
Their eyes shifted over toward the porch, pausing in their tracks.
“Huh…”
The porch was… bare? The bowl they had left out last night was gone.
Well, at least something seemed to enjoy the soup.
Cozyshot wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that.
They stared for another moment, half expecting the bowl to suddenly reappear. It didn't.
"That's odd..."
Maybe some animal had taken it. The soup, at least. The bowl felt a little excessive.
Curiosity eventually got the better of them. Making their way to the front door, Cozyshot slipped on their coat and stepped outside.
The cold greeted them immediately. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they carefully made their way down the porch steps.
The bowl was nowhere to be found. Not beneath the steps, beside the house, or buried beneath a pile of snow.
Cozyshot folded their arms in confusion.
That was certainly one way to start the morning.
A small gust of wind drifted through the village, the pines swaying softly in the distance. Their gaze followed them for a moment before dropping back to the ground.
Something had caught their attention.
A trail of prints stretched across the snow.
"Hm?"
Stepping closer, Cozyshot crouched down.
The tracks looked vaguely canine. At least, they thought they did. Truthfully, they weren't exactly an expert when it came to animal footprints.
Maybe a wolf?
No, those seemed too large.
One after another, the prints crossed the yard before eventually disappearing into the forest. Cozyshot's gaze lingered on the tree line.
The same forest everyone seemed so oddly concerned about. The same forest Pumpkin Pie had warned them about yesterday…
Cozyshot remembered how casually the elderly inphernal had spoken about everything else, the weather, the bakery, the neighbors. But the forest had been different.
Pumpkin Pie had been rather insistent about that.
Cozyshot looked back at the trees.
The branches swayed gently beneath their coating of snow, and the pale morning light settled between the trunks. Nothing moved that they could see.
Perhaps there was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Dangerous animals, slippery ground, getting lost in the snow... any of those would make sense.
Still, Pumpkin Pie's warning lingered longer than Cozyshot would've liked. There was nothing particularly frightening about the forest in daylight, but that didn't mean they were eager to investigate.
Not today, anyway.
Their gaze drifted back to the tracks.
"So you're the one that stole my bowl?"
The prints definitely offered no explanation.
A small huff escaped them. Whatever had wandered through during the night, it had apparently been quite fond of soup.
Maybe it'd bring the bowl back. They hoped it would.
The thought was ridiculous.
They chose to believe it anyway. After all, stranger things had probably happened.
Probably.
With one final glance toward the forest, they stood back up and brushed the snow from their gloves.
That bakery wasn't going to visit itself.
And if Pumpkin Pie had been even remotely honest about their bread, Cozyshot intended on finding out as soon as possible.
The walk into town wasn't particularly long, though Cozyshot found themself taking their time regardless.
There was plenty to look at.
The village was made up of small, closely built houses and shops, most constructed from dark timber with stone foundations. Fresh snow clung to the sloping rooftops, while narrow chimneys sent thin trails of smoke into the pale morning sky.
A faint smell of burning wood drifted between the buildings. Cozyshot tucked their chin deeper into their coat as they continued down the path, passing evergreen shrubs and little clusters of pine trees.
It was a quaint little place. Not quite like anything Cozyshot was used to, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
They passed a small shop with a window display full of knitted scarves and mittens, making a mental note to stop by later. Their current coat was warm enough, but the cold had a way of finding its way through the smallest gaps in their clothing.
The smell of freshly baked bread soon pulled their focus away from the shop. It drifted through the air, warm and sweet against the cold, practically inviting them to follow it.
Which, of course, they did.
The bakery wasn't difficult to find. A wooden sign hung above the entrance, swaying slightly whenever the wind picked up. Warm light spilled through the windows, and a few silhouettes could be seen moving about inside.
Cozyshot pushed open the door.
A little bell chimed overhead.
The warmth hit them almost immediately.
The bakery was less busy than they'd expected. A few villagers sat at the tables placed at the windows, chatting over cups of tea. Nobody seemed to be in line at the moment. The air smelled of cinnamon, butter, and freshly baked bread.
Cozyshot was beginning to understand why Pumpkin Pie had recommended the place so enthusiastically.
"Welcome in!"
An inphernal with small warm yellow horns stood behind the counter, smiling as soon as they spotted Cozyshot.
"Good morning!" Cozyshot waved, making their way to them. "I'm already convinced that this place is great."
"Really? I'm glad! I can't say that I've seen you around... Are you the new neighbor who lives near the trees?"
Cozyshot’s eyebrows furrowed a bit.
How come basically everyone knows where my house is…?
“Uh… yeah. That's me. I only moved in yesterday, actually.”
“I thought so!” The baker leaned forward slightly, resting their hands against the counter. “We don't get many new neighbors around here, especially ones who choose a house out that way.”
“Is that so?” Cozyshot tilted their head. “I thought it was a pretty nice place.”
The baker's expression shifted. Rather than answering immediately, they looked over past Cozyshot to the windows, where the snowfall continued uninterrupted.
“Well… It's certainly quiet.”
“That's what I liked about it!”
“Right!” The baker's smile returned rather abruptly. “And quiet is good! Very good, actually. Plenty of room to yourself, no neighbors bothering you, no noise to keep you awake at night. You'll have a lovely time there!”
Cozyshot blinked at the sudden enthusiasm.
“I'm glad you think so?”
“Of course!” The baker straightened up, their smile settling into something a little more natural. “The house has been empty for quite a while, so it's nice to see someone finally making use of it.”
The baker's words unsettled Cozyshot. Pumpkin Pie had reacted similarly when they'd mentioned the house.
They pushed the thought aside for now.
“Really? I was wondering how long it'd been empty. There was a little bit of dust to deal with, but nothing too bad. The kitchen's pretty nice, too.”
They chuckled a bit, looking over at the window for a moment.
They weren't looking at anything in particular. From Cozyshot's perspective, anyway.
“Well— that's great! You'll want to keep it warm, though. These winters can get pretty chilly.”
“I've noticed...” Cozyshot looked down at their coat. “I'm beginning to think I should've brought more blankets.”
That earned a small laugh from the baker.
“You'll get used to it. Most inphernals do, eventually.”
"Most inphernals?"
"Ah, well, you know what I mean!" They waved a hand dismissively. "Most of us have lived here for ages. You get accustomed to a place after a while."
Cozyshot tilted their head. "I suppose that's true. Though I imagine there's a difference between getting used to the cold and getting used to living somewhere."
The baker paused for just a moment before gesturing to the display behind them.
“Anyway, was there anything in particular you wanted? We've got fresh loaves out of the oven, cinnamon rolls, and a few little honey cakes if you're interested.”
Cozyshot's attention immediately shifted to the pastries.
“Oh, those look good.”
“They are, if I do say so myself.”
“Then I'll take a loaf of bread, please! And one of those cinnamon rolls.”
“Just one?”
Cozyshot considered this for a moment.
“...Two?”
The baker laughed again as they reached for a paper bag. “Coming right up.”
While they prepared the order, Cozyshot took another look around the bakery. It was a pleasant little place, warm and bright despite the gray weather outside. The conversations drifting through the room made it feel rather lively.
It reminded Cozyshot a little of home.
Not quite enough to make them homesick, but enough to make the new village feel a little less unfamiliar.
“Here you go!” The baker set the bag on the counter. “That'll be...”
They named the price, and Cozyshot promptly fumbled around in their pockets for the right amount. After a brief, slightly embarrassing search, they managed to pay and tucked their purchases beneath one arm.
“Thank you! I'll definitely be back.”
“I'll hold you to that.” The baker smiled. “And if you need anything else, don't be afraid to ask. Everyone here knows everyone, so somebody's bound to point you in the right direction.”
“That's good to know! I'm gradually figuring out where everything is.”
“Well, welcome to the village, then.”
Cozyshot grinned. “Thanks!”
With that, they waved goodbye and stepped back out into the cold.
The warmth of the bakery disappeared almost immediately, replaced by the familiar chill of the snowy streets. Cozyshot tucked the paper bag closer beneath their coat, careful not to crush the pastries inside, and started down the path home.
The visit had gone well enough. They'd found the bakery, met someone new, and bought enough bread to last a few days.
Still, the awkward pauses lingered in their mind.
Was there something wrong with the house itself?
They'd barely made it a few steps down the street before something suddenly occurred to them.
The curtains.
Cozyshot stopped.
“...Oh, come on.”
They'd gone all the way into town, bought bread, some cinnamon rolls, and somehow managed to forget the one thing they'd actually meant to buy.
Well, at least the shops weren't going anywhere…
Maybe they could improvise with something lying around?
The walk home gave Cozyshot plenty of time to think about what they wanted to do with the rest of the day.
There were a few crates left to unpack, though most contained things that could wait until their siblings arrived. It felt strange settling into a house meant for three people all by themself, especially when half the rooms looked uninhabited.
They wondered when the house would stop feeling borrowed.
Their belongings were slowly finding their places, the kitchen was starting to feel familiar, and they were figuring out the little routines that made a house feel lived in. Though there was a difference between knowing where everything belonged and feeling as though they belonged there, too.
Sometimes, the quiet was a relief. There was something nice about being able to move through the house without interruption, to cook breakfast at their own pace or spend an entire morning doing absolutely nothing.
Other times, they caught themself listening for sounds that weren't there.
A voice from another room. Footsteps in the hallway. Someone asking what was for dinner, even when the answer was obvious.
Their siblings weren't here yet. They'd known that from the beginning.
But knowing something and feeling it were two different things.
Cozyshot shook the thought away before it could settle too deeply.
They had time.
And a loaf of bread.
That was a good start.
Cozyshot set their purchases on the kitchen table and cut themself a slice of bread before putting the rest away. One cinnamon roll, meanwhile, was gone considerably faster than they'd intended.
They hadn't even realized how hungry they'd been until there was nothing left but a few crumbs on the plate.
Well, at least it was good.
After washing their hands, Cozyshot turned to the remaining crates. They unpacked a few kitchen utensils, found a place for the spare plates, and spent several minutes deciding where a collection of mismatched mugs ought to go.
Eventually, they settled on a shelf beside the stove.
Their focus wandered to the window.
The snowfall hadn't stopped once all morning. Beyond the glass, the rooftops were slowly disappearing beneath another layer of white, and the forest stood in the distance, its branches weighed down with snow.
Cozyshot watched it for a moment before turning their attention to the kitchen.
They had bread.
They had eggs.
They had enough ingredients to make something decent for dinner.
And yet, somehow, they weren't quite sure what to make.
Maybe it was time to look through a cookbook?
They rummaged through one of the smaller crates until they found it tucked beneath a bundle of towels. The cover was a little worn around the edges, and several pages had been marked with scraps of paper, though Cozyshot couldn't remember the last time they'd actually used it.
They carried it to the table and flipped through the pages.
There were all sorts of recipes inside. Some were simple enough to make without much thought, while others called for ingredients they were fairly certain they'd never seen before. They continued flipping through the pages until a recipe caught their eye.
A thick vegetable stew, made with potatoes, carrots, onions, and a handful of herbs. Nothing particularly fancy, but it looked warm and filling. The instructions were pretty straightforward, which was always a welcome sign.
They read through the ingredients twice, then a third time just to be certain.
"Alright," they murmured, closing the book. "Let's give this a try."
The next hour passed in a pleasant blur of chopping vegetables, measuring ingredients, and checking the cookbook to make sure they hadn't missed anything important. The kitchen slowly filled with the smell of broth and herbs, and Cozyshot found themself humming as they worked.
It wasn't quite the same as cooking with their siblings around, but it was nice in its own way.
They could imagine Vine Staff standing beside them, insisting that the vegetables weren't cut evenly enough, while Shuriken would probably steal a piece of potato the moment Cozyshot turned their back.
The thought made them smile.
By the time dinner was ready, the light outside had begun to fade.
Cozyshot ladled some of the stew into a bowl and sat down at the kitchen table, taking a moment to appreciate their work before digging in.
It was good. A little too much pepper maybe, but good.
They made a mental note to use less next time, then forgot about it when they went back for another spoonful.
Dinner passed quietly. Once they'd finished eating, Cozyshot washed their few dishes, leaving the kitchen in considerably better shape than it had been that morning.
They were just drying their hands when their eyes drifted to the front window.
The porch was visible from here.
So was the little patch of snow where they'd found the tracks earlier that morning.
Cozyshot stopped.
The wooden bowl sat beside the porch steps, surprisingly clean. The only thing that seemed out of place was the snow that hadn't settled along its rim.
Strange…
They weren't complaining. It was a nice gesture, though a bit bizarre for an animal to return a bowl.
Was it even an animal?
Whoever, or whatever, had taken it seemed to have enough manners to bring it back, at least.
Cozyshot looked back at the bowl on the porch.
They had gotten their bowl back.
And there was still plenty of stew left…
They could simply leave it outside again. If the visitor returned, they'd have a funny little story to tell their siblings.
Except…
They already knew what would happen if they did nothing different. The food would disappear, and they might find themselves staring at an empty porch all over again.
That seemed rather unproductive.
They retrieved the cookbook from the table, moving it aside to make room for a small scrap of paper.
If their visitor was clever enough to return a bowl, maybe it was clever enough to understand a note.
There was only one way to find out.
After a moment's consideration, they found a pen in one of the unpacked desk drawers and sat down to write.
Their first attempt was a little too formal.
The second sounded as though they were addressing a criminal.
The third was, somehow, worse.
Cozyshot stared at the paper.
"...Why is this so difficult?"
It wasn't as though they were writing a letter to the mayor. They were trying to talk to an animal.
Probably an animal.
With a small sigh, they started again.
Hello!
They paused, tapping the pen against the table.
That was a good start.
If you're the one who took my bowl last night, you can have some more soup. I'd appreciate it if you left the bowl behind this time, though.
Cozyshot reread the note. Then, after a moment, added one final line.
You can use the pen if you want to answer. I'm curious who you are!
They set the pen beside the paper and leaned back in their chair.
There.
That was mostly reasonable.
They weren't sure how much of a conversation one could have with a wild animal, but it seemed worth a try. And if the visitor turned out to be something less ordinary than a fox or a wolf, well, that would make things even more interesting.
They folded the note once, then reconsidered and unfolded it again.
Would the visitor even be able to read it?
Well, that was a problem for later.
Cozyshot picked up the wooden bowl and carried it to the front door, balancing the note and pen in their other hand. The cold slipped inside as soon as they opened it, brushing against their face and making them immediately regret not putting their coat on first.
They hurried onto the porch.
The snow had settled into a smooth blanket across the steps, with only a few scattered tracks breaking up the surface. Cozyshot set the bowl beside the door, positioning the note where it would be easy to see and placing the pen beside it.
They stood back to inspect their work.
A bowl of stew.
A handwritten note.
And one perfectly ordinary pen.
It was a little ridiculous, honestly.
"Well," they murmured, looking into the distant trees, "dinner's served."
Nothing answered.
Of course, there was no answer.
They hadn't exactly expected a response right away.
After one last glance at the bowl, Cozyshot retreated indoors and shut the door against the cold. They checked the lock out of habit, then walked back into the kitchen to finish putting away their things.
The evening passed much as the afternoon had. They unpacked another crate, arranged a few books on the living room shelf, and eventually settled down with an old book. Its cover was worn from years of handling, and they turned to a familiar page, only to realize after several minutes that they hadn't absorbed a single word.
Their attention kept drifting towards the front door.
It was silly, really. They'd lived in the village for barely a day, and already they were waiting for someone—or something—they knew absolutely nothing about.
The thought of waking up to find a reply waiting outside excited them more than they'd expected.
Perhaps it was simply nice to have something else to look forward to.
Cozyshot closed the book and set it aside before finally deciding to head to bed.
The porch light cast a warm glow across the snow outside. For now, everything was exactly where they'd left it.
Cozyshot pulled the makeshift curtains across the bedroom window, satisfied that they wouldn't have to wake up to the morning sun again.
Tomorrow, they would have to buy proper ones.
And perhaps a few more groceries.
And maybe another cookbook if they felt up to looking around for one.
Outside, the snow continued to fall.
And the little bowl waited quietly on the porch.