The town announced itself with a wooden sign that leaned slightly to the left.
No grand stone gate. No guards in polished armor. Just a wide dirt road that narrowed into a main street lined with modest buildings—plastered walls, tiled roofs, shutters thrown open to catch the afternoon breeze.
Marron slowed the Food Cart as they entered.
"This looks promising," she murmured.
Mokko sniffed the air. "Bread," he said immediately. "Fresh."
She smiled. "Then we chose well."
There were a handful of shops—a greengrocer with baskets set out front, a butcher with hooks gleaming inside, a general goods store with bolts of fabric hanging in the doorway. Further down, she spotted two restaurants. One had paper lanterns strung under the eaves. The other displayed a chalkboard menu written in careful script.
Not grand.
But cared for.
"We should restock here," Marron said. "If we don't, we're rationing until the next town."
"Or foraging," Mokko offered mildly.
She gave him a look.
