Attah woke as she always did—with the cry of her one-eyed cockatrice greeting the sun. Because Dib had lost an eye and, with it, his power to turn intruders into stone, his previous owner had left him at her door one night.
Stretching, she turned in her straw-tick bed, nudging the baby chimera coiled up against her thigh. He opened one amber eye, yawned, then closed it again. Within moments he returned to sleep, alternating purrs and snores. She smiled and petted his head, smoothing his golden-brown fur.
She received an indignant bleat for her trouble.
“I wouldn’t forget to pet all of you, my dear Scrumble.” She rubbed his goat kid head between the horn buds, being careful not to disturb his sleeping lion cub head. This baby had been abandoned on the roadside. His owner must have thought him defective, not knowing it took longer for a chimera’s snake tail to emerge. She had coaxed the timid creature to her from the forest understorey with a bit of honeyed teff bread. It was still his favourite treat.
She lay in bed under the light woolen blanket her friend, Breathe, had knitted for her and sighed in contentment. The weather was beginning to cool, but the cottage held on to the warmth of summer sunshine in its clay walls and wooden beams criss-crossing the ceiling. It was a delight to relax here for a few special moments, enjoying the early morning quiet. Soon she would have to store up wood for the winter; in a few weeks, perhaps. Right now, it was the perfect temperature for wearing an openwork lace shawl while she picked ghost peaches from her orchard. Breathe was coming over later with a new stray, and she wanted to make a special dessert.
Ghost peaches were their favourite. But what would she create? Was it hot enough for peach ice cream? Was it cold enough to make warm, chewy peach cookies?
Attah must have spent too much time dawdling in bed because her three-legged gryphon bounded into the bedroom. Tiffin compensated for the loss of her right foreleg by holding out her right wing to balance, so when she leaped onto the bed, it looked like she was falling in mid-air. But she landed perfectly, right on Attah’s belly.
“Oof!” she said, ruffing Tiffin’s neck feathers. “You’re getting heavy.”
Tiffin squawked and sat on her hind paws, then she nudged Attah with her beak.
“Okay, I’m up! I’m up.”
Chuckling, she scooped up the gryphon in one arm, then sat up. She slid her feet into slippers and headed downstairs. The thump behind her was Scrumble leaping down from the bed, the lure of breakfast too much to ignore. In the kitchen, she opened the windows to let in the fresh, sweet early autumn air. Tiffin saw a bug and wriggled to get free and chase it. Attah let her go, then turned to the sink to wash her hands. In the larder, she filled bowls for all three of her rescues, who were now strutting around the front garden. She set out their breakfast, then headed back inside to place a parcel of butter on the windowsill in the sunshine to soften while she bathed.
Washed and dressed, Attah took a saltgrass basket and lined it with a cloth before she traipsed into the orchard to harvest. Ghost peaches were extremely delicate and one had to pick them correctly or the fruit would bruise. Their thin skins didn’t protect them from rough handling. She chose the roundest, ripest ones, where a yellow line had formed through the green leaves, then began the delicate process of picking.
First, she balanced the weight of the peach in the palm of one hand, then closed her thumb and first finger of the other hand around the dark brown stem. With a pinch and a twist, the fruit came free, resting in her palm. When she was younger, she hadn’t known the peaches had to be cradled to be picked, otherwise they would fall right through your fingers! Since then, she had learned a lot about the ghost peach: how to grow it and how to use the sweet, soft fruit in many recipes.
Even her rescued pets loved the trees. Scrumble would rub himself against the bark to scratch, and Tiffin loved to sit on its branches for shade. Even Dib, once he’d crowed loudly to welcome the morning, liked to munch the blightbugs that wanted to feast on the young peach buds.
When her basket was full, she still didn’t know what to make for Breathe’s visit. She looked up at the sun and gasped. It would only be another few hours before she had company! She marched back inside and made a cup of coral daisy tea while she left the trio to enjoy the sunshine. She needed to think up a solution to this dilemma.
She took down the ice cream churn she’d fashioned from a wooden bucket with metal hoop fastenings. What would she need to make the recipe? Sweet cream, golden sugar, a vanilla bean, a tiny pinch of blue sea salt, and lemon juice—just a squeeze! She had everything, but was that the right thing to make?
Then she took her jade green mixing bowl out of the cabinet. What about cookies? Attah searched her larder and discovered she had everything she needed to make those as well. But she only had time to do one of them. Then, which one? She looked at the ghost peaches glowing in their basket.
“No matter which I choose, I need to get all of you ready.”
She washed the peaches gently, removing the fuzz, and set them on a towel to dry. Tenderly she removed the white peel of each one with her fingers, revealing deep yellow-orange fruit. She set aside each pit in a glass of water to plant later. Once they sprouted, she would give them away as gifts. After, she diced up the peaches into small squares. “Now what?”
She nibbled on a slice of peach to think. Cool air blew in through the sun-warmed window. One moment, she was a bit too warm, the next she shivered with the sudden chill breeze. “I got it. Now I know what to do.” She finished her tea and got to work.
Hours later, Breathe came up the garden path to her door. The pets had just eaten their lunch, and Scrumble was curled up with Tiffin on the rug in front of the still-warm iron stove. Dib had made himself comfortable in the tiny straw-tick bed she’d crafted for him and placed in a shaded corner of the kitchen. He then tucked his head to his breast for a nap.
“Knock, knock.”
“Come in, come in.” Attah smiled.
Breathe had brought a large basket and set it down on her kitchen table. Inside was a bottle of homemade plum wine that could be drunk hot or cold.
“This is perfect! With this changeable weather, I’d been having the hot or cold worry about what to make today.” Attah poured cups of the plum wine for them both. One she heated on the stove; the other she served straight from the bottle. “But I thought you were bringing another stray.” Her eyes prickled with tears. “Did it—”
“Oh no!” Breathe reassured her. “The stray I found abandoned is in here. I thought it might be out by now, but it isn’t.”
Attah blinked, confused. “Out?”
Breathe opened the basket to reveal a large lilac-hued egg with cream-coloured spots.
“My gracious! What is it?”
“I thought you might know.”
The egg trembled and shook. A fine crack appeared in the shell. “Looks like we’re going to find out soon.”
She tucked an oven-warm tea towel around the hatching egg and sat the basket close to the stove, away from the cool afternoon breezes blowing through the cottage. Her sofa faced the stove so they could both sit on the plump cushions and keep watch over the hatching egg. Even help, if needed. She took the heated mug of plum wine and placed it in Breathe’s hands, then sat her own cup on the table. “I’ll just go and get our dessert.”
“Did you ever decide on warm or cold?” Breathe took a sip and leaned back into the cushions.
“No, I couldn’t decide.” Attah brought out a tray of ice cream sandwiches and placed them on the table in front of the sofa.
Breathe laughed and took one as Attah checked on the egg.
The egg rocked back and forth, the crack in the shell widening. Scrumble and Tiffin ignored it, possibly believing there was plenty of time to sniff it after their nap. Even Dib closed his eye after the briefest glance at the newcomer. A large section of shell broke away to show a damp, but glossy feather. A soft whine accompanied the creature’s progress. Attah gasped. She hadn’t seen a hippalektryon since she was a little girl! The half-horse, half-rooster creatures were rare, and they didn’t grow very large, so it would be the perfect addition to her brood of rescued pets. Unless, of course, Breathe wanted to adopt the newborn themself. Attah then took an ice cream sandwich and sat down next to her friend to await the new arrival.
After a bite, Breathe exclaimed, “Ghost peach—my favourite!”
Attah smiled and pulled the woolen blanket up over both of their laps. “I remembered.”
