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... 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 ...
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