Isabella sat cross-legged by the small blue-glowing pond, a half-devoured strip of meat in one hand and grease glistening on her lips. The cave smelled of smoke and spice; her stomach, usually stubborn, growled loud enough to echo.
"Oh my god," she muttered between bites, "I've been starving myself." She tore off another chunk, chewed noisily, and closed her eyes in bliss. "This is so good I could cry."
Glimora was sitting on her lap like a spoiled kitten, mouth smudged with sauce, nibbling her own piece of roasted meat. When Isabella offered her water from the pouch, the tiny creature tilted its head back, drinking eagerly before letting out a tiny, satisfied burp.
Isabella snorted. "At least you appreciate fine dining." She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, looked at the glowing cube floating quietly near the wall, and said through a mouthful of food, "You know, Bubu, I wish you could eat. I'd give you some too."
