After dinner, the noise outside the hut gradually softened.
The slaves, their stomachs full and their minds still circling around the ten words Mirella had taught them, settled into small groups beneath the gentle light of the Spatial Farm. Some traced letters into the earth with dried corn stalks, while others whispered the words to themselves over and over, afraid that if they stopped speaking them, the precious knowledge might slip away like water through open fingers.
Inside the thatched hut, only Sienna and Mirella remained.
The small room was warm and quiet.
A kettle sat upon the electric stove, releasing a soft hiss, and the faint fragrance of tea leaves soon spread through the air, washing away the smell of cooked rice and making the modest hut feel even more peaceful.
Sienna sat at the table, her fingers lightly tapping the wooden surface as she watched Mirella prepare the tea.
