Marked by the Four Beast Lords After Transmigration

By the following morning, the rain had moved east.

Water still traveled through Hearthfang in newly cut channels, but sunlight reached the upper paths between slow drips from the trees. Outside their cave, the washed shelterbark lay across two low stones with its smooth side facing upward.

Mari had poured water across it twice. The first wash carried away forest grit. The second beaded and ran from the edges, though Mari refused to decide anything until the bark dried completely.

Inside, Nia arranged the gathered samples near the upper hearth.

The young riverfold leaf rested beneath a damp cloth so its edges would not curl. Four rainpears remained in their single layer. The fresh redvein stayed wrapped in cool moss, the drying portion lay open near the wall, and the planting division waited in a shallow stone cup with its roots covered.

The blackpod container remained closed.

Shen set clean knives and three small cups beside the preparation stone. A plain pot of broth and a second pot of clean water warmed over the fire. Mari had set aside several pieces of cooked root and a little sliced meat for the tests.

Mari watched him place the third cup.

“If every sample needs its own cup, we will finish with nothing clean enough for midday food.”

“Only redvein needs three.”

“That is how it begins.”

Nia smiled as she checked the riverfold leaf. “We are testing one thing at a time. Nothing touches the next sample until the stone, knife, and hands are washed.”

Mari looked at Shen.

“He already prepared the wash basin,” Nia added.

“I saw. I also saw him set out twice as many cloths as anyone should need.”

Shen folded the last one beside the knife. “Then we will not run out.”

Mari made a quiet sound that did not approve or object. She moved the midday grain farther from the testing area anyway.

Sareth had returned from the southern warm route near dusk. Ayari sent word after dawn that he would bring fresh comparison leaves from the route and dried redvein from their household stores.

Sera arrived first, carrying a covered bowl against her hip. Ayari came behind her with Sareth, whose long dark-green tail moved carefully around the doorway before he stepped inside.

He carried a narrow gathering tray containing two mature riverfold leaves and one dried length of redvein.

Ayari removed her damp outer wrap while Sareth wiped the nearest stool before turning it toward her. She sat as though they had merely moved an ongoing argument indoors.

“He tried to tell me the upper path was still wet,” she said. “He used the voice husbands use when they hope a female will decide staying home was her own idea.”

Sareth set the tray beside Nia’s samples. “I said the western steps were slick and that I could bring the answers back.”

“You intended to bring me the answers you considered useful.”

“I intended to bring all of them.”

Ayari gave Nia a level look. “He is usually very precise until precision becomes inconvenient.”

Sareth’s expression barely changed, but his tail curled around the back leg of Ayari’s stool before settling across the floor.

Nia lifted the fresh redvein packet. “You gather on the warm routes often?”

“Since before I joined Ayari’s household. Her family traded dried roots and summer bark with mine. I still take the western and southern paths when their first growth appears.”

Ayari leaned one arm across the table. “He also knows which plants everyone claims are common until someone asks them to gather enough for a full household.”

“That may be the more useful knowledge,” Mari said.

Sareth nodded. “Usually.”

Nia began with the riverfold.

She placed her young leaf beside the two Sareth had brought. His were broader and darker, with thicker ribs and fewer tears along the edges.

“We collected ours near the redvein grove,” she said. “Shen knew the leaves were used for wrapping, but we did not test them over heat.”

Sareth ran one finger beside the central rib without bending it. “This one is young. It will soften quickly, but the green taste may be stronger. The darker leaves are used to carry damp roots and soft mushrooms. Some route groups wrap small fish in them before setting the packet beside coals.”

Sera looked more closely at the mature leaf. “My mother used something like this around marrow roots during the hot rains. She stopped after we moved farther from the southern water.”

“Did she put the leaf directly in the coals?” Nia asked.

“Near them. The roots cooked in their own steam. I remember the smell more than the method.”

Nia touched the underside of the mature leaf. It carried a faint green scent, fresher than the folded winter leaves they used for bundles.

“Then we are not creating a new use,” she said. “We are testing whether it can do more than the old route preparation.”

She looked at Shen. “Thin the thickest part of the rib on one mature leaf, but leave the other whole. I want to see whether removing some of it changes how the packet closes.”

Shen washed his hands and knife before trimming the leaf exactly where Nia indicated. He did not flatten the entire rib. He thinned its thickest section so the leaf bent without splitting.

Nia placed equal pieces of cooked root and sliced meat in the center of each leaf. She added no salt, fat, or sourness.

Ayari watched her fold the first packet.

“You are leaving it plain?”

“If the leaf gives bitterness or scent, seasoning could hide it. I want to know what the leaf does before I decide what belongs inside it.”

She folded the untrimmed leaf next. Its central rib resisted the turn and pushed one edge open.

Mari pointed before Nia reached for the tying cord. “That one would need more work every time.”

“Yes. Trimming it first is worth the step if the leaf itself passes.”

The packets went into a shallow steaming vessel above the clean water. Nia covered them and turned away rather than lifting the lid again.

Sareth examined the younger leaf from the grove.

“If you use these often, gather only the outer leaves after the plant reaches full width. Cutting the center slows the next growth.”

“How many leaves can one plant lose safely?”

“Two from a strong plant. One if the ground around it has shifted. None from the grove you visited until the bank settles.”

“Then this sample is enough,” Nia said. “We will not ask anyone to gather more yet.”

While the riverfold steamed, they moved to the rainpears.

Sareth picked up one fruit and pressed lightly near the stem.

“These traveled better than most.”

“Shen kept them from shifting,” Nia said. “Two softened before we returned. We ate them instead of letting them bruise the rest.”

“They rarely reach Hearthfang intact. The firm ones grow higher on the branches, and the ripe fruit bruises inside ordinary gathering packs. Most people eat them along the route or bring back only enough for the same day.”

Ayari turned the fruit in her hand. “Which is why no market seller wants to spend half a morning carrying them carefully for a price people will complain about.”

“Would the trees support a larger harvest if someone did?” Nia asked.

Sareth shook his head. “Not every season. The broad-horned grazers eat the fallen fruit. Small climbing beasts open the damaged ones. If too many firm fruits leave before they drop, fewer seeds reach the wet ground.”

Nia thought of the grazers feeding beside the flooded basin.

“Then we should not place a regular market order or ask gatherers to collect these in quantity.”

“It can still be something Hearthfang enjoys,” Sera said. “Those are not always the same.”

“No,” Nia said. “They are not.”

She cut one rainpear into narrow wedges and passed them around. Mari took the smallest. Ayari bit into hers and closed her eyes briefly at the sharpness.

“It smells sweeter than it tastes.”

“That is why I do not want it cooked for long,” Nia said. “The heat may leave us with sour water and no scent.”

Shen uncovered the bowl Sera had carried. Inside were several slices of fatty boar left from the morning meal.

Nia warmed one piece near the edge of the stone, then pressed a few drops of rainpear juice over it after it came away from the heat. She divided the slice into small portions.

Sareth tasted first.

“The fruit clears the fat.”

“It did the same with the bird yesterday,” Nia said. “Added after cooking, it keeps more of the green floral scent. If it goes into a large pot, the scent may fade before the last bowls are served. It should finish an individual serving or a small dish.”

Mari considered the remaining fruit. “A household with ten people would finish a small harvest quickly.”

“Another reason it stays seasonal and small. We can test whether one thin slice works with fresh curd when curd is available again, but we do not build a recipe around a fruit that may not survive the trip.”

Ayari took another piece of boar, added less juice than Nia had used, and tasted it.

“Sareth will bring two home the next time he passes the grove.”

Sareth looked at her.

“Two,” Ayari repeated. “Not enough for one husband to decide he likes it and finish all of them before the others return.”

His tail tightened once around the stool leg. “Two.”

The riverfold packets were ready.

Shen lifted them from the steam and placed them on separate stones. The trimmed leaf remained closed. The untrimmed one had opened along one side, allowing some of the moisture to escape.

Nia waited until both could be touched safely.

The mature leaf had deepened in color. When she opened the trimmed packet, clean steam rose carrying the scent of meat and something green beneath it. The cooked root stayed moist without breaking at the edges.

She tasted a small piece.

No bitterness arrived. The leaf’s scent was faint but present, closer to fresh grass than cooked greens.

Sera tried the same portion. “This is near what I remember, but lighter.”

“The leaf kept the food moist without adding much flavor,” Nia said. “That may be more useful than a strong taste.”

Mari opened the second packet and examined the dry edge. “The trimmed one kept its seal.”

“And the mature leaf added no bitterness,” Nia said. “The younger sample needs its own test before it goes near a full parcel.”

She looked toward Sareth. “Would gatherers trim a leaf for travel food, or would the extra work make it impractical?”

“For one meal, they would use it whole and accept the opening. For medicine bundles, soft mushrooms, or food meant to remain moist longer, they would trim it.”

“Then it is not a replacement for folded winter leaf. It has a different job. We test it with fish or a drier meat next, and we measure whether the scent changes after several hours.”

Shen moved the riverfold samples to a clean tray and marked the trimmed and untrimmed pieces separately.

Only then did Nia open the redvein packet.

The fresh root’s cut surface remained pale beneath thin red lines. Its scent rose as soon as the moss moved away—bright, warm, and slightly sweet.

Sareth placed his dried length beside it.

“Fresh redvein is usually carried for medicine. A shaving in hot water settles some stomach sickness. A larger piece can numb the tongue and make the stomach burn.”

“We tasted less than a shaving at the grove,” Nia said. “Enough to compare it with the dried market root.”

Sera leaned closer without touching it. “Some older households put it in broth after spoiled fat or a long cold journey. They called it food because it entered the pot, but no one ate that broth for pleasure.”

“That matters,” Nia said. “I do not want to turn medicine into seasoning because I like the smell.”

Shen divided a shaving into three pieces thinner than his smallest nail. One remained raw. One went into hot water. The last touched a spoon coated with warm rendered fat before Shen added a little plain broth.

Nia smelled each before anyone tasted.

The raw piece carried the sharpest scent. Hot water drew out heat but left the sweetness behind. The broth drew out both the heat and the faint sweetness more evenly, though the first breath above it remained stronger than she expected.

“No one drinks yet,” Nia said.

She waited, stirred the broth once, then asked Shen to remove the root.

Sareth watched the small cup. “Most route households leave it in.”

“Then the strength keeps changing while they drink. That may be why one cup settles the stomach and another burns.”

Sera gave a slow nod. “Or why the last bowl was always given to someone no one liked.”

Ayari laughed, and even Mari’s mouth shifted.

Nia tasted the smallest amount of broth.

Warmth touched her tongue, then spread through the fat without striking one place too sharply. The sweetness was faint but clearer than it had been in water.

Shen tasted after her. “Less numbing than the raw shaving. The amount is still too uncertain for ordinary cooking.”

“I agree. For now, redvein remains medicine. We can reconsider it as seasoning after we understand the dried strength and the medicine workers establish a safe measure.”

Sareth tapped the dried length he had brought. “The western route households sell this because it travels. Fresh redvein loses strength unevenly if the surface is bruised.”

“Then we compare our drying sample to yours over several days,” Nia said. “If the scent fades before the numbing heat does, it is not useful for what I want.”

Nia opened the outer blackpod container and loosened the inner packet only enough to expose the ridged shells.

Sareth recognized them immediately. “Cord workers crush those for weather paste.”

“Medicine households warm the oil for old scars,” Shen said. “Known skin use does not make them safe to eat.”

“Then it leaves the kitchen. The medicine workers can keep the seeds with the nonfood oils or pass them to the cord workers, but the seeds do not touch food tools.”

Nia retied the inner packet before Mari set it apart from the food tools.

Sareth examined the redvein division in its damp cup. “The warm outflow below the care station may suit this. Cooler soil can make the root harsher.”

“Then medicine chooses the planting place,” Nia said. “They can track its strength if it grows near Hearthfang before anyone considers using it in food.”

Sareth nodded. “That is the right place for it.”

Once the final samples were separated, Mari stepped outside and turned the shelterbark over.

The underside remained dry.

She bent to smell the surface, then rubbed one corner with a clean wet cloth.

“One more drying,” she said. “Then Selvan can see it.”

Ayari rose while Sareth lifted his empty gathering tray. He left his dried redvein beside Nia’s drying sample for the comparison.

“You brought back fewer foods than the basket promised,” Ayari said.

Nia looked at the three rainpears, the remaining riverfold leaf, and the redvein drying near the wall.

“I brought back what might become food. That is different.”

Ayari’s smile widened. “Good. Bram has already started asking when your forest meal will reach our table.”

“Tell him the forest has not agreed yet.”

Sareth opened the door for Ayari, but she paused beside the preparation stone.

“When it does, send the method before the finished dish. If my husbands taste it first, they will remember only that they liked it.”

“I will send both.”

After they left, Sera carried the planting division and the sealed blackpod packet to the care station. Mari cleared the testing area for midday food while Shen washed the redvein cups and returned the food knife to its clean place.

Nia remained beside the opened riverfold packets.

Most of what they had carried home still had no place in a meal.

Still, the kitchen felt fuller than it had that morning—not because everything from the forest had earned a place, but because each thing now had to.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!