Bangles and Bread

“I do not do a hair thing,” Cyd chided, laughing as she did ‘the hair thing’ he referred to. After emptying his duffle into the washer dryer combo, she motioned to the fridge, and he handed her the small carton of eggs.

“North is too risky right now. You don't want to spend time in a Royal Mountie prison until Bela pulls springs, do you? Don’t answer because you don’t. So as I said, fish tacos are south, along with the really good pico de gallo. That’s our next move.” Mathias might think through his stomach sometimes, but Cyd kept an eye on the bigger picture, and the bigger picture did not include a short stretch in prison while they tried to figure out why they had mercury, lamb’s blood and bat wings among other things locked up in the bed of the pick-up. The various bangles and charms on her right hand clanged against the small stove as she fried up the remaining eggs in the cast iron pan along with the bacon grease. Her left arm, which had a custom bracer to hold a small tablet, was kept safely away from the heat. Everything was kept warm until Mathias finished showering. “No toast," she apologized, "we used the rest of the bread in the fairy trap.”