Lake Lewisia #1113

"Oh, whisking just doesn't agree with these old joints," the elderly woman complained, panting with exertion over the bowl of not-very-whipped cream. The sharp-faced little wild thing, who resembled nothing so much as a fox wearing a huge leaf as an apron, offered, "I'll whip it for you if you show me how to make those little flowers with it." The woman, plenty old enough to know the hazards of deals with fae creatures, nonetheless agreed, knowing that the kinship of cooks often transcended such considerations.

---

LL#1113