“Cooks and hunters of mythical beasts,” Athos murmurs with a faint shake of his head. The stew is good: hearty, rich, and uncomplicated by the exotic flavors that seem to dust all food in the modern world, the sort of fare appropriate to a chilly winter day. He doesn’t immediately answer her question; in fact, the silence stretches long enough that a person would be forgiven for assuming that he had decided not to answer.

“The chocolate ones are particularly good,” he concedes finally.