The sky was a clear, brilliant blue. Dazzling sunlight streamed through gaps in the dense pine needles, forming shafts of varying thickness that lit the woodland shade and its drifting, gauzelike mist. Filtered through layers of leaves, the sunlight fell in beam after beam.
Like blades of laser light, they shone on the faces of the Arathi tribespeople.
Evely was a decisive man, and the discovery of this new food filled him with energy. After a word with Rex, he ordered several people to carry some millet away.
Following Rex's instructions, he fetched a large pot, filled it more than halfway with water, added the millet, and began bringing it to a boil.
His movements were rather crude, but his method was undoubtedly correct.
Time ticked by. Flames rose beneath the pot, steadily transferring heat from the dry firewood into it.
The water began to boil. Evely stood beside the pot, watching every change within it intently. He approached the task as though he were fighting a battle, meticulous and utterly focused.
After a long while, the fragrance of millet wafted out, drawing Evely's attention. He carefully inspected the porridge cooking in the large pot before him.
When he felt it was about ready, he took out a carved wooden ladle and gently scooped up a little. Ignoring the steam rising from it, he brought it straight to his mouth.
He slurped it down in one mouthful, and his expression changed.
He stared at the millet in the pot, his eyes shining. Although it tasted rather bland and was hardly some exquisite delicacy, it was undeniably food. It could be eaten and would fill an empty stomach.
To Evely, the most important thing was that it could be mixed with water. Making porridge was wonderful: a pound of food could