The village chief sat opposite, also picked up his bowl, sipping porridge slowly as he casually talked about the village's trivial matters.
This year's wheat harvest was good, the water level in the old well at the village entrance was higher than last year, and a caravan passed by some days ago bringing salt and cloth.
His tone was calm and natural as he spoke, occasionally pausing to cough a few times.
The girl sat next to Duke, sipping her porridge in small bites, occasionally glancing at Duke with curiosity far outweighing wariness in her eyes.
Outside, the night wind swept across the wheat fields, with the rustling sound drifting through the stone wall crevices, intertwining with the crackling of embers in the stove.
This remote border village was as quiet as if it were asleep in the night.
The girl's name was Ella, which Duke learned after helping to clear the dishes after the meal.
