Ling could smell it. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. The dragon agreed with him, though remained outside without moving a muscle. He entered the building and gravitated to the kitchen on light feet and reached out for it, wanting to satiate his hunger now.
“I don’t think so.”
There was no accompanying touch with those words, like some others might do to ward him away from something Ling wasn’t supposed to have, but it had an even stronger effect. The voice was calm, but firm. Kind, yet unquestionable. Kun was the nice one, but for some reason Ling felt less like pressing him when he said otherwise. He swallowed.
“How much longer?”
“Ten more minutes. You can speed up the process if you set up the table.”
Ling thought about that. “The others won’t eat at the table! Is Shui even here?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Kun replied vaguely. But he didn’t take back his request and Ling knew that meant he might have to wait longer if Kun had to set the table himself.
Ling rushed off to set the table and Kun threw some scraps out the window, where the dragon snatched it up.