That night, the wind outside howled louder than usual.
Inside the stone palace, the fire in the stone pit burned steadily, filling the rooms with warmth.
Isabella lay on the thick fur bedding, her eyes half closed. She should have been tired enough to sleep quickly after a whole day of walking around the village.
Instead, her stomach started protesting.
She rolled to one side, then the other.
Cyrus, who was sitting nearby sorting some herbs, noticed immediately.
"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked.
She stared at the ceiling.
"I want roasted nuts," she said. "With sour fruit juice."
He blinked. "Together?"
"Yes."
"That combination…" he began.
She squinted at him. "Do you want your hatchlings to cry from hunger in the middle of the night?"
He stood up at once.
"I will get it," he said quickly.
He wrapped himself in a cloak and stepped out into the cold.
Cyrus ran across the village, his breath turning white as it hit the air.
