Mark of the Moon

Chapter 5 - Family Again

Chapter 5: Family Again

 

    "Would you mind starting to cut up the chicken, Sam," Mrs. Everdeen asked politely and I nodded, walking over to the sink to wash my hands. I reached for the handle to turn the water on, but my hand reached empty air as I realized there were none. Wide eyed I looked at the contraption of a faucet, and Mrs. Everdeen without even turning around to look commented, "Just tap the spout with you wrist, dear," 

  Cautiously I pressed my wrist against the top of the faucet, and the water turned on, with a grin I continued to wash my hands, "You have quite a beautiful and very up-to date kitchen, Mrs. Everdeen,"

  "Why thank you...I've been begging for years to get the old kitchen remolded and the boys finally got around to it this year for a birthday present," she started pouring the chopped up green peppers into a bowl.  I moved over to the counter space-which was bountiful, and grabbed a stray cutting board. The chicken was already set out on the counter, defrosting.

  "Um...where are the cutting knives?" I asked, giving the open space a once over, I felt out of place in the new surroundings, I would have been better off to feel around blindly.

  "Bottom drawer to your right," she replied automatically, taking out a cooking dish. I did as instructed and revealed a drawer filled with neatly pressed dish towels. "I think I'll have a hard time cutting with towels," I said with a chuckle.

  "Oh, sorry, I'm not even used to this updated kitchen yet, lets see...I do believe it's the drawer next to the dishwasher,"

  Now finding the dishwasher was the hard part, it blended in as a drawer; the only thing that gave it away was that it was bigger than the rest. "Thank you," I said as I took out a large cutting knife so I could start cubing the chicken.

  "What exactly are we making again?" I asked, not remembering if she answered me or not the first time. But my voice was drowned out by the blender as it was turned on high, meshing the jar of eggs, cheese and some little red vegetable that I couldn't place the name on. Shrugging my shoulders, I finished cutting the first chicken breast. Glancing over at the other ingredients, I glimpsed biscuits, more cheese and milk. My eyebrows scrunched together as I didn't recognize any direction this was heading.

  The blender stopped, leaving a creamy yellow liquid left in the container, and I was just about to speak up again when another voice cut through the kitchen. "I'm going to be taking the human home..." Tristan started to say walking into the kitchen, his hand was on his neck and his eyes closed as he stepped through the threshold. "So I'll be back in time for dinner,"

  Both of our attentions snapped up towards Tristan as he realized his mother didn't respond right away, his eyes opened. I smirked at the slight shock I saw in his eyes at me being inside, if I weren't bristled at the fact that he hadn't called me by my name. His mother picked up on it also, "Samantha," she enunciated carefully so he fully got it, "will be staying here for dinner with us,"

  The tensed at the sentence, "Now, I'm sure she would rather be at home..." he started sternly, giving me a cold steel look that I couldn't stand to meet. Instead I looked back down at the knife in my hands that was still slowly cubing the chicken.

  "I already asked her, she would love to," Mrs. Everdeen replied curtly, a could sense the slight disappointment in her voice. "So make yourself useful and start helping us with dinner, since you have already cleared your plans through dinner,"

  He glanced between the two of us, his face falling flat and indifferent to the problem after taking a good look at his mother. With a grunt he walked over to the sink, to wash his hands. I stayed silent; the tension in the room was close enough to suffocating. Mrs. Everdeen didn't seem to notice, taking her son's compliance as acceptance and continued cheerfully, "We are making a new dish the new family in the pack brought with them," she finally answered my question, "I'm not sure of the actual name, the family had made it so long that they just knew the recipe by heart-not needing a real name," she shrugged.