One small hand runs through the direwolf's fur as she shrugs slightly in answer to Bran's question. In all honesty, Badou had taught her the basics of the kitchen; besides sewing and cooking, he seemed to be excellent and nearly all domestic tasks. But, as he'd said, when all you've got is your brother and he can't do any of those things, you've gotta learn. All he'd done was pass his knowledge (discreetly) on to her.

The offer of help, however, is not passed over so easily. Her wings perk and she makes a gesture as if she's adding a pinch of something to the soup. What she needs are spices. A quick look around proves fruitful--there's a patch of parsley nearby, and she bounds towards it, crouching so she can pick a bit and show him.