When Silvie wasn't with her favorite people, she was in around the kitchens. The three turn old was being carefully watched, though, by one of the kitchen workers. Owara had volunteered, once she'd heard that the toddler spent a lot of her time making mud pies.

Silvie was sat on a stool, watching Owara intently. "Make pies?" She asked. Would they? Pies that people would actually eat? No one seemed to want to eat the ones she made, but she couldn't understand why. "Make pies?" She repeated.

There was a boy there, a little older than she was. Would he be making pies, too?