Seventeen
The Fei are back in the fields by the time Solma and Warren trudge home. The Aldren are installed in rickety old porch chairs, managing the Yuen. Solma frowns at the crude repairs the village has managed after the raid. Mismatched timber covers broken windows and new mud covers damage to the walls. Solma watches the village activity and feels somehow separated from it, everything blurry and muted. They head into the house where Bell is waiting at the stove.
“I’m starving!” Warren announces, and Solma’s heart kicks, she knows he’s not exaggerating.
Still, she rubs away a smudge of dirt on his chin and says, “No you’re not. C’mon, Bell has fresh bread, I can smell it.”
Bell glares at her. “I’d like at least one loaf of bread to last beyond the end of the day,” she mutters, but
