Eren stood in front of the old iron gate in Zekeriyaköy and pushed it open with his shoulder. The hinges made the same complaining sound they had made since he was a kid. The short path to the front door felt shorter than it used to. Maybe his legs were longer now. Or maybe the house had simply gotten smaller while he was gone.
He didn't knock. The door was never locked anyway.
The smell hit him the moment he stepped inside. Old wood, dried herbs hanging from the ceiling, and that sweet sharp thing his mother used to burn in the winter that always made his eyes water a little. It was familiar in a way that made his chest feel tight for half a second.
"Granny Mulan?" he called.
A string of very creative Elvish curses came from the kitchen. They were loud and inventive and exactly the kind of language a ninety-something elf woman should not know how to use that well.
Eren smiled despite himself and headed toward the sound.
