The scent hit her first—rich, warm, and savory. Thalina's lashes fluttered open, her senses groggy but alert enough to notice the cozy weight of a blanket tucked around her body. Soft fur brushed against her bare arms, and the heat soaking into her bones made her sigh without meaning to. For a split second, she forgot where she was.
Then her gaze drifted to the thatched ceiling above her and the cracked wooden beams, and it clicked—the hut. They were back in the village.
Relief rolled over her like a wave. Her muscles still ached from earlier, a dull reminder of how far she'd pushed herself. She blinked again, her eyes adjusting to the dim light trickling through the window slats. Her nose twitched. That smell...
Soup. Real soup.
Her head turned sharply toward the far corner of the room, where a crude pot hung over a small flame. Steam curled up in lazy tendrils, carrying the scent straight to her brain and making her stomach growl so loudly she flinched.
