She smiled. She knelt. She hugged him. Her heavy tits pressed against his small chest. She kissed his forehead. She looked up at Raven.
Raven shook his hand. He smiled at the boy.
"Have you cooked something?" he asked.
The boy shook his head. "No, sir. We were waiting for mother."
"Good," Raven said. "I will cook."
He entered.
The woman followed, confused. Raven looked at the small room. The dirt floor. The wooden table. He snapped his fingers. Dust vanished. The floor gleamed. The air smelled of lavender. He went to the kitchen. He found the bread. The vegetables. The dried meat.
He cooked.
The woman watched. Her mouth hung open. He moved with easy grace. Chopping. Stirring. Flames danced under his fingers without a stove. Magic. Simple. Casual. He served the food on wooden plates.
"You can even cook?" she asked.
"Of course I can," he said. "I can do everything."
They ate.
The boy devoured the food. "Delicious!" he cried. "So good!"
