ASTRAL GALLEY
The camp stove hisses softly, blue flame dancing beneath a cast iron skillet. Kalani Bunspice moves with practiced grace between the cooler, the prep table, and her makeshift outdoor kitchen—every motion efficient, every choice deliberate.
“Cooking outside teaches you what matters,” she says, not looking up from the vegetables she’s chopping. “No fancy gadgets, no temperature control, just fire and instinct and whatever the land provides.”
The aroma of sautéed garlic and herbs drifts through the campsite. Titan pauses mid-stretch to inhale appreciatively. Cassian’s pacing slows. Even Phantom’s vigilance softens slightly at the edges.
This is Kalani’s magic—the way she transforms raw ingredients into moments of communion, the way a simple meal becomes ceremony. She cooks for sustenance, yes, but also for connection. Every dish carries intention.
“Food is how we remember we’re alive. It’s how we say ‘I care about you’ without words. And out here, under these stars, every meal is a gift we give each other.”
She plates the food on mismatched camp dishes, each serving adjusted to what she knows that crew member needs. More protein for Titan. Lighter fare for Veilana. Extra spice for Sylvan who pretends he doesn’t have favorites but always goes back for seconds when she adds cayenne.
The galley doesn’t exist yet inside the van. But here, in this circle of firelight and folding chairs, Kalani creates the heart of their home. One meal at a time.