Autumn Turkey

One last desperate attempt

"Not yet." The young captain intoned as he held up his hand, stopping his troops short of charging into the fires for their tasty prize.

His dark gaze never wavered he stared into the trembling flame, expression cold and intense, thoughtful and oh, so serious.

There was plenty of reason for this, after all. Many autumns had come and gone since his parents had perished- and every single time, a single truth had remained.

The Unfezant meat was always cooked like crap.

No matter where he went. It didn't matter what festival stand he visited. No matter which friend's family dinner he invited himself to. Nobody in Hoenn knew how to cook this bloody meat without making it dry, coarse and tasteless, it seemed.

Which meant it was all up to him. Due to the incompetence of others, he hadn't tasted a single tasty thanks-giving 'unfezant-turkey' since his mother had perished. So he would just have to do it himself.

"Don't move a single muscle until I tell you to." He ordered darkly, eyes gazing into the fire.

He could not allow his cooking to be disturbed. It had to be perfect.

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Bingo Prompt: "Unfezant"