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CHAPTER 25 — The Basket and the Beast

last update Huling Na-update: 2025-11-16 03:26:19
Elira

The stew was on.

Steam curled from the heavy pot in slow, twisting ribbons, thick with the scent of fox meat and root vegetables. It should have been comforting. It should have felt like warmth and survival and the small illusion of safety.

Instead, the silence between us was sharp enough to flay skin.

Every sound seemed too loud against it—the pop of the fire, the faint scrape of his movements, the wet simmer of the stew. I felt pinned beneath it, as exposed as if I were still naked and bent over in the cold.

I needed something to do before the quiet crushed me.

I padded over to the straw nest that had become my bed and sat cross‑legged, running my fingers through the long pieces I’d gathered earlier. The memory came in a sudden, aching rush—Sasha’s patient hands guiding mine as she taught me to weave, the smell of sun‑warmed hay, Ginny laughing when my first basket collapsed in on itself, Tawny teasing me for making it crooked.

I needed a basket. Something practical. Something
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