Kai confidently strode ahead, with Moran following close behind.

The pair was making slow progress throught the village, with the former pausing every couple steps to explain, or rather brag about, something in excrutiating detail.

They approached a cluster of food stalls, where villagers were casually chatting while passing out wrapped bundles of rations.

The air was thick with the smell of roasted meat and something earthy Moran couldn’t quite place.

Kai waved at one of the stalls, his cheeky demeanor on full display.

He seemed different here, more carefree, willing to joke around.

The tense, sarcastic boy Moran had first met was nowhere to be found.

Back among his kin, Kai felt more like what Moran expected from a sixteen-year-old.

“Hey! Got any of the good stuff today?” The man asked leaning on the wooden counter of the stall.

Behind the counter, a woman with skin as white as fresh snow looked up from sorting a basket of spices.

Without missing a beat, she plucked a bundle from the pile and slapped it into Kai’s waiting hand.

Her skin was white as snow, with not a hair on her entire body.

“Good stuff, bad stuff—easy to judge if you are not the one cooking it!”

She shouted with a smirk that shoved her flesh in wrinkles over her cheeks.

She was as featureless as all common Shapeless, no hair, smooth white skin, ect., but despite it the looked very old.

Older then Vestiya, Groll and maybe even Bithlehem.

Her form was squeezed into an apron that might serve as a spare tent, should Moran's stall every burn down, but around her massive curves and fat rools it could only be called a tight fit.

Despite her age and the softness of her form, her voice was hard and sharp, fitting someone who had to deal with a lot of nonsense for a lot of time.

She placed her hands in her massive hips, a wooden spoon sticking from her hand. "And I have yet to produce this bad stuff."

Kai grinned, tossing the fist-sized bundle up to and caught it again, judging it's weight.

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“More then usual."

The woman chucled. "Get used to it, boy. Heartbearer need more then us modest folk."

She slapped her more then modest belly with her spoon to emphesize, or contradict, her words.

Moran let his gaze wander over the scene.

The stall was loaded with slabs of meat, baskets of brightly colored spices, and bundles of strange roots.

It all looked... delicious.

His stomach gave a greedy growl.

After over a week of nothing but bland leave salat and plain water, he craved something that did not taste like grass.

It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“So you guys do have meat,” he said dryly.

The woman stopped mid-motion and turned to him, her eyes narrowing with amusement.

Then she leaned over the counter, peering at him like she was inspecting a particularly unusual bug, squinting her eyes like she could barely see him, despite the jars hung all over her stall.

“So you’re the face behind the mouth, hmm?”

Before Moran could take a step back, her sausage-like finger jabbed him squarely in the chest.

“You’re scrawnier than I imagined.” She declared solemny, like she was passing the judgment of the gods.

Moran shrugged. "Hard to overeat on dry-leaf-salat."

The womans eyes tightened but her smile just grew wider.

“Careful with that tongue of yours, boy,” she said.

“We wouldn’t want my old hand to ‘accidentally’ spill some extra salt over your meal, now would we?”

She pulled her hand back and made shaking motions to emphesize her point.

For some reason that made Moran chuckle.

Maybe it was the anticipation of food, maybe her disarming personality, but he couldn't help but smile.

“This is Ogmar,” Kai said, nodding toward the woman.

“The one and only,” she added with a playful bow, her apron straining against her curves.

“Master of the kitchen for as long as anyone can remember. Now that I think about it, I might have been born in an apron. Anyway, if you want to eat, you come to me.”

She straightened, spoon resting on her hip as she tilted her head toward Moran. “And you are?”

“Moran,” he said simply.

Kai snorted, already pulling a morsel from his bundle and stuffing it into his mouth.

“Really?” managed between bites, chuckling around the food.

“What?” Moran asked, throwing him an annoyed glare.

He knew the meaning of his name in their langauge.

But by the time he had learned it had already grown on him.

Had become not just the name Kai had given him, but his name.

“Oh, nothin’.” Kai grinned, his cheeks full like a squirrel.

Ogmar’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she shifted her focus back to Moran. “Nice to meet you, Moran.”

Her smile was wide—so wide that Moran couldn’t tell if she was mocking him or if her massive grin was just her default expression.

With a quick slap of her spoon against his chest, she turned and barked at someone working behind the stall.

“Magla! This one gets a normal bundle, but make sure there’s some flesh and fat in it!”

Her gaze flicked back to Moran.

“We’ve got to get some pounds on those bones.”

A wrapped bundle, tied with coarse twine and wrapped in a large leaf, flew through the air.

Kai snatched it effortlessly and tossed it back to Moran without missing a step.

Moran cought it more by reflex then intend.

“There. You’re sorted,” Kai declared, nodding like he had done something extrodinary.

“What, just like that? No trade, no payment?” Moran asked, stumbling not to let the hot bundle slip out of his grasp.

Kai shrugged.

“You pay with your work. Like mom said. Everyone works, everyone eats. Simple.”

Before they could continue their convesation Moran felt a wooden spoon press against his shoulder.

Because of their conversation a small crowd had formed behind them, all of them looking Moran up and down like he was the only thing between them and something they wanted desperatly.

“Sorry, folks, but people can't have enought of me.”

The woman with the wooden spoon declared with mock pride, and shoved him aside, using the cutlery like a shovel.

Moran understood and followed the already walking Kai.