the flavors melded together in a way that reminded me of those Creole dishes I'd been weaned on--gumbo and etoufee.

Before the heat and flavors melted me, I vaguely remembered the old myth of Persephone and how she had to remain in hell because of her hunger.

Putting down the wooden bowl, I queried my hostess.

"So, what was it that you wanted to show me?"

The old woman's back was to me as she worked a metal rod over a piece of wood, shaping it into another, albeit much larger, bowl. Hardly stopping, she shushed me. "Eat! You are too slight a girl--must grow stronger."

Staring into the stew bowl, I realized I'd just lost my appetite. "Is there anything I can do to help you?"

She turned and smirked, the wrinkles folding over the corner of her mouth. "Do you not mean what I can do to help you?"

Almost at the exact moment, I caught a glint of metal from the corner of my eye. There, on what was a type of mantel over the fire, was something I'd know anywhere--the key to getting me and the rest of my crew out of this place. But what was this old woman doing with it?