A Stew to Save the World

By Andrea Renae

“A bowl of stew can’t save the world, sis.”

Miriel Takkenridge slammed a pot on the stove. “How about you leave the world saving to me, Todd?” Frowning, she diced two onions before her eyes had a chance to water. “Unless you’ve been crowned Chosen One in this universe?” Her chopping stilled as she threw her redheaded, middle-aged brother a look.

Todd inspected his grease-stained hands, and Miriel regretted the jab. He’d never gotten over being left behind.

Miriel began searing the mountain of cubed bison. The aroma filled the cottage, and ribbons of drool pooled beneath the jowls of a giant, sweater-clad dog as he watched from his oversized pillow. Miriel tossed him a chunk of potato. “Now, now, Matteo. You gotta wait, same as everybody else.”

She turned back to Todd, waving a parsnip. “I don’t care what you think of my stew. Go sniff out the souls who could use a hot meal. There’s usually a few down by the river.” When he started to protest, she smiled sadly. “Hunger doesn’t take a holiday.”

Sighing, her brother stood and walked toward the door, stopping by the salivating Saint Bernard.

“You know, Miri, you’re not the Chosen One in this world, either,” he said softly, “and the one you saved is long gone.” He gave Matteo a half-hearted scratch. “You’re allowed to enjoy the life you’ve earned, make up for time lost.” As if wary of the squall he’d agitated, Todd escaped out the door.

Swallowing her irritation, Miriel scraped the vegetables into the pot, then slumped into a chair and buried her fingers in her storm-cloud hair.

Three decades back in her hometown hadn’t been enough to readjust to life, nor had the time made folk any more comfortable with her—aside from her once-older-now-younger brother. The fact that she’d disappeared for five years when she was seventeen and returned as a thirty-seven-year-old made them distrustful, despite the good she’d done. Since Miriel wasn’t one to feel sorry for herself, she poured her energy into righting the wrongs within reach.

But would it ever be enough?

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Matteo, who am I if I’m not savin’ the world?”

The dog gave a rumbling woof that filled all the empty spaces in Miriel’s tight chest.

“Well. That sets me straight.” She laughed, slapping her knees as she stood. “One pot of world-saving stew, comin’ right up.”

***

Two hours later, the food was cooling, but Todd had not returned. Miriel peered into the fading light, hands on her hips.

“You think something’s wrong?”

Matteo whined and licked her elbow.

That was all the affirmation Miriel needed. She blitzed around, turning off the stove and shoving bandages, tinctures, and bottled water into a patched satchel. At the threshold of the cottage, her eyes clapped on the front closet. Inhaling sharply, she selected a deep green jacket and slipped it on. The dragonskin leather still fit her like a glove. Heart thudding, she pulled out a dagger, eyeing it wistfully.

“Wish more’n one had made it back with me, but you’ll have to do.”

She took off, Matteo struggling to keep up.

Night was fast approaching by the time she made it to the river, where a large encampment of homeless souls had sprung up. With the war to the east—one in which she was “too old to enlist”—refugees were common enough that folks had gotten good at turning a blind eye.

Miriel peered at the ramshackle shelters, gasping when she registered several prone bodies. “Todd?” she called. There was no response.

Before despair could cripple Miriel, Matteo bounded ahead with all the subtlety of a drunken dragon. She crept forward, gripping her blade, until voices came within earshot. Whining anxiously with hackles raised, her dog lowered to the ground. Following his example, she crouched behind a pile of pallets and surveyed the scene.

A shape with silver-shot red hair lay to the left of an oil barrel fire—Todd, she realized, heart lurching—and two men were corralling a cluster of terrified children to the right.

“Quit your moaning,” the taller man bellowed, waving a shotgun dangerously. “No one cares about orphan refugees ‘round here, and we need you looking your best for the market, don’t we?”

When the other man started toward them with ropes in hand, both Miriel and Matteo acted on instinct. They leapt past Todd into the firelight, Matteo’s charge sending rope-man scrambling toward the river. The other man had just started to swing his shotgun toward Miriel when her airborne dagger sunk into his hand. He roared and lost his grip on the gun, sending it flying to his right. Enraged, he looked for his attacker.

“Really, old lady?” he seethed.

Miriel had faced dragons before, but never without a weapon. A cold defeat twisted her gut. Her brother was right. This world didn’t need a has-been hero past her prime.

“I think you mean, ‘Chosen One.’” Todd! Gentle, introverted, mechanic Todd stood with shotgun raised in steady hands.

The trafficker turned catfish-belly white, spluttering unintelligible pleas.

“I suggest you quit your moaning,” Todd said, motioning Miriel toward the kids with a jerk of the chin. “Need you looking your best for the authorities.”

***

Miriel tended the pot at the stove, heart squeezing as Todd helped the children forget their horrors with tales of his dragon-slaying, little-big sister. Matteo, the incorrigible beggar, rested his head in the tiniest girl’s lap, eyes drooping pathetically. The child’s giggle was a pure, healing sound, and Miriel’s worry eased.

“Now, Todd.” She fixed her brother with a stern look. “I might’ve saved that world, but you’re the hero in this one.”

The children cheered, and Todd looked at his hands, shy pride in his gaze.

Belly lit with a new fire, Miriel grabbed her ladle. This world might not need her knives, but it most certainly needed her stew. She winked at her guests. “I hope you kids are hungry.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Andrea Renae grew up on the Canadian prairies alongside a cat companion, thrilling in tales of all kinds. She processes life’s wonders, hardships and oddities through words while deepening her hope in the Author of it all. A lover of the beautiful as well as humorous, she believes in the power of a good story to bring hope, truth, and light in the most unexpected ways.

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