He picked up the pestle. Started grinding.
The herbs crumbled to dust beneath his fingers, releasing a cloud of earthy fragrance. Liam reached into his inventory and pulled out the ogre marrow, a massive bone filled with glistening, fatty tissue. Liam had been waiting for this moment.
"Finally," he whispered.
Liam set the marrow across the blackened metal rack suspended above the hearth. Blue flames, cold and electric, licked at the bone's underside, coaxing the pale fat to melt and drip in amber beads. Each hiss and pop echoed off the stone walls as smoke spiralled upward, rich with the scent of rendered marrow and charred marrow fat and primal, smoky, deeply meaty. Midnight's sleek black tail flicked in time with the crackles; her blue eyes glowed, fixed on that sizzling promise.
