Cale's Kitties!

Chapter 8

Why are there dangerous people in the mansion? It's a question that plagued Lewis' head everytime Ron trained him, and Beacrox looking after him. His instincts kept telling him that those two are bad people, the subtle scent of death dancing around in their presence.

It made the young 13 year old wolf uneasy... but.

"...Like this?"

Lewis said as he carefully diced the onion into bits. He made sure to hold the knife with a firm grip and he also made sure that the blade does not come in contact with his skin.

"Yes."

Beacrox said simply, his arms crossed as he scrutinized the young beastman's movements. Truth be told, Beacrox was surprised when Lewis, who showed great caution and distrust towards him and his father, requested to learn how to cook. Of course, he wasn't against it... it's just that he doesn't trust Lewis to... well... be clean and tidy. The kid clearly knows how dangerous a knife is, so Beacrox doesn't need to intervene much. The kid's fur... is gonna be a pain to sweep up, after all.

"Ngh..."

Beacrox heard the young wolf's groan of discomfort and shifted his gaze from the chopping board and went towards his face. Ah, it seems that Lewis is experiencing the challenges of cutting an onion. The poor wolf has one eye close, while the other is half-lidded, almost closing. His open eye is currently tearing up, but it hasn't slid down his cheek just yet. This is a first hand experience that everyone must go through in the area of cooking, including Beacrox.

The teenage Molan brought a hand towards his mouth, covering it slightly to hide the rising grin he's making. Then, a memory resurfaced at the back of his mind.

"Oh dear."

"Hic..."

A small boy hiccuped as he tried to rub his eyes with his arm, but a woman stopped him. Instead, she took out a handkerchief and pried the boy's arm away before gently wiping his swollen and teary orbs.

"It seems the onion got caught in your eyes, sweetie."

"I-it hurts, mother..."

The boy whimpered in discomfort as he leaned into the handkerchief that the woman, whom he called mother, is holding. The latter smiled softly, doing her best to ease the boy's suffering.

"Beacrox, my son. If you want to be a chef, then you must be able to handle something simple like this onion." Said the mother as she picked up a sliced onion piece and held it in front of her son.

"Nyooo!" The boy, named Beacrox, whined as he buried himself into his mother's embrace, clutching her clothes with a small whimper. "I don't wanna...!" 

Then an amused and deep chuckle garnered their attention. The mother and son duo looked up to see a brown-haired man leaning against the door frame as he smiled fondly at them. "Is Beacrox afraid of a wee onion?" The man said in amusement as he knelt down to meet the boy's eye level. His callus hand went ahead to pet Beacrox's hair, the latter leaning into his touch, pouting as he eyed the man.

"I'm not scared!" Beacrox retorted, sniffling a bit, making the man chuckle at his cuteness.

"Ron, honey, that's enough." The woman said as she shook her head at Ron's playful jab. "We ought to train our boy to handle onions if he truly wishes to be a chef." She placed the onion piece down on the chopping board and lifted Beacrox up into her arms, cradling the young boy safely.

"I will be a chef... hmph!"Beacrox buried himself onto his mother's chest, refusing eye contact with his father out of anger. Both his parents chuckled at how endearing their son is.