Chapter One
What's Cooking
It had been an idyllic morning in the Valley of Gorn. The warm sun shimmered off bright green leaves as they fluttered in a gentle breeze. Song birds chirped and warbled, flitting between branches.
Gorn wiped sweat from his brow with a thick forearm and leaned on the handle of a well worn axe. Pieces of firewood surrounded the heavily muscled man, a testament to his mornings work.
"Still plenty left to do," he muttered quietly to himself. A habit that annoyed his wife. "A hard winter is coming."
He knelt down to scoop up a caterpillar in an immense palm and stroked it's fuzzy little body with a meaty finger.
"Sure enough sign of it right here," he continued to mutter while examining the creature with a scrutinizing eye. He knew that a wide black band on the center of one of those caterpillars usually indicated the severity of the coming season. The wider the band, the worse the winter. This caterpillar was nearly all black.
After setting it back on the ground with a surprising gentleness, he slung his axe over his shoulder and turned his gaze to the bottom of the valley. He'd spent the entire morning in the upper meadow chopping wood and a lunchtime hunger grew in his belly.
Wondering what wonderful thing his wife had prepared for a meal, Gorn began to lumber down the easy slope. A contented smile filled his broad face.
Thyrynn, his wife, certainly spent her morning busily about the kitchen, preparing the days meals. She took great pride in her creations. Gorn provided the meat and she harvested fruits and vegetables from her immaculate gardens.
Her father had willed the valley to Gorn and Thyrynn just before he died. He had lived there alone for countless years, rarely making contact with the world beyond the valley.
Unexpectedly, he had arrived at Gorn and Thyrynn's room in a boarding house. Some strange malady had befallen him and death quickly consumed him. He made it clear that Gorn was to take his daughter to the house in his valley and make it their own.
After some adjusting, the two found an unmatched happiness and lived blissfully for years. Gorn worked the surrounding forests. He cut wood, hunted, trapped and skinned. Thyrynn turned the house into a comfortable home and surrounded it with her gardens.
Gorn could see the gardens coming into view. Beautiful with colorful flowers intermixed with a bounty of fruits, berries, and vegetables. A great hide hung from the side of the house, curing. A pleasant smell wafted from the smokehouse.
An owlbear had wandered into a deadfall trap Gorn had placed in the upper valley. It was fortunate to have caught the beast rather than stumble across it in the forest. Now it's hide of fur and feathers hung on a wall above the smokehouse, where several racks of it's meat soaked up the flavorful smoke.
Gorn pushed his way through the gate and lovingly ran a hand over clusters of bright flowers. He made his way through the gardens and approached the covered porch.
"Thyrynn," he called. He liked to announce his presence to prevent himself from startling his dedicated wife.
He propped his axe against the porch bench and kicked off his muddy boots. Thyrynn also insisted on keeping a clean house and Gorn was happy to oblige.
He pushed open the unlatched door and stooped down to walk through the entranceway. A strange sound and some unfamiliar odors greeted Gorn as he looked about the house.
A horrible hissing sizzle came from the kitchen area, accompanied by a sporadic rattling. He quickened his pace with a scowl forming on his face and went to investigate.
The stew pot lid rattled as it boiled over. Streaks of stew oozed down the pot and bubbled into a burnt mess on Thyrynn's cooktop. Gorn quickly pulled the pot away from the heat, burning his hands a bit.
It was not like Thyrynn to neglect her kitchen concoctions. Gorn scratched the top of his head and peered around the house. His scowl deepened. That's when he saw it.