"If I must eat another one of Beatrix's meals, I will throw myself into that river." Tamora giggled at the thought of Medea diving into the shallow stream. "I mean it! I will not endure this hardship no longer!" Sighing, Medea threw herself onto the meadow's grass and looked to her sister and Tamora.
"Stop being so dramatic," sighed Anne. "It's not that bad, if you can swallow mustard."
"Stop being so dramatic," sighed Anne. "It's not that bad, if you can swallow mustard."
"If only she would let someone else cook, for once ... " A pout was beginning to form on Medea's mouth.
"Maybe if she would stop cooking rabbit as well. Joseph says that I am beginning to grow rabbit ears. He says my teeth grow longer!" Anne wriggled her nose and made her fingers imitate a rabbit's flopping ears. Tamora giggled again and flushed a pink colour. Sometimes, more often when Joseph laboured shirtless, she liked to imagine him speaking to her, or even looking at her. But he was a good man, and would never think of her, a married woman that way. Nor would she. Sometimes she had her daydreams though, but she would never tell.
Medea threw a bit of grass at Tamora, startling her out of thoughts. "Any ideas?" she asked. When Tamora looked at her puzzlingly, Medea repeated her query. "I asked if you had any ideas for getting out of rabbit stew tonight?" Tamora shook her head. Medea sighed and threw some more grass at her.
Anne leaned back and chewed on a length of grass. "If only the gardens would bloom faster. I miss fresh carrots."
"That would be the rabbit stew talking."
Anne made a face at Tamora's pert comment. "If only rabbits would talk ... I bet they'd tell us where the carrots are hiding." She straightened and her face split into a grin. "Say, what if rabbits could tell us?" The grass bit fell from her lips as she spoke. "It's just as Dane says, the animals will tell us what we can and cannot eat!"
Tamora brightened at this. "Let's find some rabbits!"
"Maybe if she would stop cooking rabbit as well. Joseph says that I am beginning to grow rabbit ears. He says my teeth grow longer!" Anne wriggled her nose and made her fingers imitate a rabbit's flopping ears. Tamora giggled again and flushed a pink colour. Sometimes, more often when Joseph laboured shirtless, she liked to imagine him speaking to her, or even looking at her. But he was a good man, and would never think of her, a married woman that way. Nor would she. Sometimes she had her daydreams though, but she would never tell.
Medea threw a bit of grass at Tamora, startling her out of thoughts. "Any ideas?" she asked. When Tamora looked at her puzzlingly, Medea repeated her query. "I asked if you had any ideas for getting out of rabbit stew tonight?" Tamora shook her head. Medea sighed and threw some more grass at her.
Anne leaned back and chewed on a length of grass. "If only the gardens would bloom faster. I miss fresh carrots."
"That would be the rabbit stew talking."
Anne made a face at Tamora's pert comment. "If only rabbits would talk ... I bet they'd tell us where the carrots are hiding." She straightened and her face split into a grin. "Say, what if rabbits could tell us?" The grass bit fell from her lips as she spoke. "It's just as Dane says, the animals will tell us what we can and cannot eat!"
Tamora brightened at this. "Let's find some rabbits!"
"It may not be carrots, but we have something." Medea grinned at the spoils they held.
Tamora produced a pot from a basket she held. "Since Bea won't give up dinner, we can at least have our own."
"Did you bring the flint?" Anne whispered. She found it thrilling to be doing something so secret, even if it was just cooking a dinner. The others were excited too, even if they chose not to show it. Tamora produced a spare flint and steel she had borrowed from the camp.
Tamora produced a pot from a basket she held. "Since Bea won't give up dinner, we can at least have our own."
"Did you bring the flint?" Anne whispered. She found it thrilling to be doing something so secret, even if it was just cooking a dinner. The others were excited too, even if they chose not to show it. Tamora produced a spare flint and steel she had borrowed from the camp.
Tamora was sent to creep back into camp for fresh milk, while Anne gathered wood. Medea filled the pot with fresh water from the stream and placed it on the spider cooker. It would hold the pot above the flames. It's four long iron legs gave it the name of spider.
Medea had once asked why it was called a spider cooker even though it only had four legs, not eight. Her father had found the thought amusing and made a story about how spiders who lost their legs could not catch flies anymore. Instead they would lay themselves to die, and the stone would come up from the ground to cover their limbs, making them rock hard. Medea, though young at the time, knew better, but giggled none the less.
Medea had once asked why it was called a spider cooker even though it only had four legs, not eight. Her father had found the thought amusing and made a story about how spiders who lost their legs could not catch flies anymore. Instead they would lay themselves to die, and the stone would come up from the ground to cover their limbs, making them rock hard. Medea, though young at the time, knew better, but giggled none the less.
Now though she sat at the spider cooker, carefully making a little log cabin out of kindling. Inside she had stuffed some grasses to feed the sparks. Anne and Tamora returned to find a red faced, cursing Medea. Try as she might, she could not coax a spark from the flint and steel. Anne admired her language, noting a few words that she had picked up from Dane. She filed them away carefully in her memory for future use before trying her hand at the fire-starter.
When sparks finally caught the grasses, the three girls leaned in close, admiring the tiny flames. Little by little they coaxed the fire until it caught a small branch, then a log. The water began to bubble merrily in the pot. Hurriedly the three set to work, chopping their finds. Tamora added the milk and Anne tossed in the chopped herbs, mushrooms, and crushed nuts.
"Oh, watch out!" Tamora was the first to spy a trickle of flame slipping away from their fire pit. It began to follow and sink into the grasses nearby. She stamped at the ground. Medea ran with a bowl to the stream and scooped some water up. She tossed it over the burning ground and watch as it sizzled out. For good measure, she refilled her bowl and did the same thing. Tamora shook out the dampness from her skirts, from being caught in the crossfire of Medea and her water.
When sparks finally caught the grasses, the three girls leaned in close, admiring the tiny flames. Little by little they coaxed the fire until it caught a small branch, then a log. The water began to bubble merrily in the pot. Hurriedly the three set to work, chopping their finds. Tamora added the milk and Anne tossed in the chopped herbs, mushrooms, and crushed nuts.
"Oh, watch out!" Tamora was the first to spy a trickle of flame slipping away from their fire pit. It began to follow and sink into the grasses nearby. She stamped at the ground. Medea ran with a bowl to the stream and scooped some water up. She tossed it over the burning ground and watch as it sizzled out. For good measure, she refilled her bowl and did the same thing. Tamora shook out the dampness from her skirts, from being caught in the crossfire of Medea and her water.
Anne looked nervously at the two other girls. "I do not know about this," she mumbled, the shine of secrecy beginning to wear off. But the other two quickly brushed off her fears and continued to cook.