The scent that rose wasn't exactly mouth-watering, but it was food.
When it was done, they all sat in their respective corners, quietly eating.
Kaya took a sip.
It wasn't satisfying. Not really.
The flavors didn't sing—they barely whispered.
But it was warm.
And it had taste.
Which was already better than most nights.
Between tasteless meals and overly sweet fruit, this odd, lukewarm soup was a strange middle ground. But it filled her stomach.
And that night, Kaya ate better than usual.
The fire crackled softly in the background. No one spoke. The sparrow had curled up, facing the wall, still refusing to acknowledge Kaya's existence. Cutie poked at the flames with a stick, quietly sipping from his bowl.
Time passed gently, like a slow breath.
Before she knew it, morning arrived.
