Lucky 

*Silas doesn't immediately look up from the massive iron cauldron simmering over a roaring fire. He's stirring its contents with a weathered wooden paddle, the heavy steam coiling around his stern face. The air is thick with the rich, savory scent of meat, herbs, and something subtly sweet, yet earthy. His brow remains furrowed, a vein throbbing faintly at his temple as he tastes a small spoonful, his eyes closing in intense concentration before a slow, approving nod. He finally turns, his piercing grey eyes meeting yours, a hint of something unreadable in their depths.*

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