Garrick's ears perked. "Just from these small roots?"
"Yeah, I only like them because they are sweet and soft." Miren chirped in.
"They might be small," Lavayla said, smiling wider. "But they're stronger than they look. And there are many kinds — some that warm you, some that cool you, some that give you sudden bursts of energy."
The group exchanged looks, impressed and curious, their interest deepening.
Ressha cradled the rest of the potatoes closer, her expression shifting into something thoughtful and excited. "Miss Lavayla… would you be willing to teach us how you prepare them?"
Lavayla looked around at their eager faces — the warriors leaning subtly forward, the foragers smiling, even Dark pretending not to listen while very obviously listening.
"Of course," she said softly. "I'd love to."
The baby stirred in her lap, nuzzling her stomach, and Lavayla adjusted him with a gentle hand, the potato still warm against her palm.
