"Bland," Heena said, before aggressively tearing into a chicken drumstick with undeniable satisfaction. "It desperately needs salt. Look at me, reduced to boiling stolen poultry in an old medicine pot."
"Hey, it was a stray! Finders keepers!" the System defended cheerfully. "Besides, your vital signs are already stabilizing. With a full stomach and a good night's sleep, you won't look like a walking corpse tomorrow."
Heena swallowed a mouthful of warm broth, staring into the glowing orange embers of the small brazier. As the calories finally hit her bloodstream, the sluggish fog in her brain completely burned away, leaving behind a razor-sharp clarity.
She set the half-empty bowl down for a moment and looked toward the neatly stacked boxes of raw spices and floral oils waiting in the front room.
