Chapter Text
Almost running into him again as Felver ran back out, Bourbon could only sigh forlornly as he watched him go. This was something that everyone would be affected by; the amount of love everyone had for the chickens was immense. The scent of the tarts starting to burn forcibly pulled Bourbon from his thoughts; it wouldn’t do to have missing chickens and burnt food.
He hurriedly tried to gain control of the kitchen, his mind only having a single focus as he ran from station to station. Since Kimerth’s panicked discovery that Zalazar and the chickens were gone, everyone has been running around, leaving their stations and ovens on. Oz was still outside running in circles and Kimerth was sitting out back, just staring at the coop. Bourbon was trying to keep everything together to make sure the food wasn’t burned, in the hope that they would be found before the festival. Luckily most of what was being made either hadn’t reached cooking stages or only needed to be put in the fridge to set; only the tarts had been in the oven. He’d been telling himself that he wasn’t allowed to focus on anything other than the tarts until they were cooked and cooling.
Once the tarts were out and waiting for their finishing touches before they could be put into storage, Bourbon allowed himself to think. Pacing around the kitchen, his thoughts whirled around in his head. If only they had been paying more attention to the back garden; his station was right by the window overlooking the chicken coops, so he would have seen whatever happened if he’d just looked outside.
The sounds from the front gradually lessened as, Bourbon assumed, Oz ran out of energy and was spiraling into her mind, probably overthinking everything. The best thing would be to bring her in and set her in front of something until she snapped back to reality. Gently coaxing Oz to follow him inside with a gentle voice was easier than previous times, experience telling him that touching her in any way would not be productive. The counter Oz had been working at was still covered in soft chocolate, soft enough to be mouldable but hard enough to hold a shape.
After getting Oz sat down, Bourbon bustled about the kitchen collecting a few extra splatters that had somehow made their way to the opposite side of the room. Turning back to see she had already reached out, collecting the chocolate and squishing it between her fingertips. Bourbon looked down at the small pile he had collected; it was probably enough to make a small model.
Looking over at where Oz was sat, who was not even looking at the now hardening chocolate, a fully detailed model of Cluck sat in front of her; perfect even down to the cunning glint in his eyes. The misshapen lump Bourbon was holding, however, could be a chicken; it could also be seen as some form of monster from deep underground with faintly feathered tentacles, or something of that ilk. It seemed that Oz was starting to focus more, the glazed look in her eyes fading as she looked down at her hands in confusion.
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As Oz came back to herself, the thoughts that had been flying round her head in a rush slowly approached the forefront of her mind, allowing her to actually consider them and their implications. Oz couldn’t believe this. Erosima was only a couple of days away and this happens. Zalazar, despite not being the most sociable and preferring the company of the chickens, was well-known and liked by all. Feeling an odd stickiness on her hands, Oz looked down and saw a chocolate model. It was about the size of a small melon and seemed to be a lifelike recreation of Cluck; Bourbon must have made it, and she must have grabbed it from him. A hand on her shoulder cause Oz to look up, startled. Bourbon had left the ovens, and since no tarts were cooling on the counters means he must have finished a while ago to have time to put them in the fridges.
“Come on, everyone’s gathering at the village hall. We’d best get going so as to not be late.” Slowly nodding her head Oz allowed herself to be led out the farmhouse towards the village hall. It was the best place to go after all; anytime there was an emergency everyone gathered there to meet and plan in a logical manner. It helped prevent actions being done twice and to get everything done more efficiently.
Oz watched as Bourbon put together a bag of the extras from the baking session. “We will be stopping by the bakery on the way there to grab a few things; all good with that Oz?” Bourbon always wanted to make sure that everyone was fed enough; during one of their late night talks he had mentioned his previous home town being ravaged by a famine. It was one of his reasons for becoming a baker here.
“That sounds good, who knows if everyone had time for lunch before all this; a couple of rolls would be good to hand out.” Kimerth wouldn’t mind his bag being borrow and if he did, they could always just give it to him at the village hall.
The walk there seemed to continue on forever, the dread of what was going to be discussed stretching out the minutes.
Along the way, they ran into Sylsatra and the kids, who were following behind almost like ducklings. It seems they must have encountered a panicked Daenys; Elbi was known for hiding out with Sylsatra, her short stature allowing her to hide amongst the children, and the kids always love the stories she told them about her travels, how she sees the world and even the ones made up on the spot.
Oz gladly picked Normir up from Sylsatra’s arms, after he’d spotted her and kept wriggling in Oz’s general direction. Deciding to tune out Bourbon and Sylsatra’s conversation until later, Oz took the rest of the walk to play about with her son and listen to his babble in return.