Navarre looked up from his cushion in front of the fire. His fur now toasty, and he sleepy. The noise in the pub had increased he realized, and the smells, ah the smells!!!
He raised his snooter to the air and breathed deeply...
No steak.
Disappointed, he returns to his dozing, thinking about the slab of beef he had once when he was little. A poor boy from a poor family, such things were a rarity--fish being the usual.
But this day, oh this day! His father had helped a man with his horse, a prized stallion that had injured itself. His father always had an ability with horses, which he'd passed onto Etienne. His father had been rewarded the next day with the delivery of a huge slab of meat, more than his family had seen within a year.
His mother had sent him to find wild onions, and had scraped her pennies together enough to purchase some other spices and flour. She'd coated the beef and cooked it in fat over a roaring fire, then smothered it in the wild onions.
Etienne watched the room with hooded eyes, enjoying the memory of that night. Enjoyed remembering how his mother and father insisted the neighbors come and enjoy the meat as well. They'd celebrated for days.
Dora floated by like the little faery-princess she was, and he drifted off into sleep once again.