A village woman with a sad face and rough hands carefully carried an old pottery bowl and an equally rough plate. With her head lowered and her steps so light and almost silent, she walked up to Yavi and Yennefer. She did not dare to look directly at them, but quickly placed the things on the ground at their feet.
The bowl was filled with thin, almost transparent soup, with a few wilted yellow vegetable leaves floating pitifully on top, and a few off-white, irregular-shaped tubers in the bottom of the soup - probably some kind of potato or rhizome that was barely enough to feed the stomach. It looked bland and tasteless. On the plate next to it was a piece of dark brown, hard texture, rough bread that was obviously full of bran, and it was quite substantial.
"S-Sir... please use..." the village woman's voice was as thin as a gnat. After speaking, she quickly retreated like a frightened rabbit and disappeared into the shadow of the camp.
At the same time, the villagers had spontaneously formed a long silent queue next to the steaming cauldron in the center of the camp. They clutched their empty bowls tightly in their hands, and their eyes were focused on the food that was churning in the cauldron and the content seemed to be equally thin. Their faces were mingled with fatigue, hunger and the expectation of the only food, and they were silently waiting for their portion.
Yavi lowered his head and glanced at the bowl of bland soup and hard bread at his feet. There was no feeling in his stomach. The demon hunter's strengthened body did not have a high demand for food, let alone such rough food that was difficult to swallow.
Yennefer was more adaptable than him. She bent down, picked up the dark brown piece of thick bread, broke off a large piece, and handed it to Yavi, with a deliberately relaxed teasing voice. "Here, let's make do with it, Mr. Demon Hunter." The food here... although it is far from comparable to Academy of Sorcerers's restaurant," she shrugged, with a faint, slightly self-deprecating smile on her lips, "But it is already more delicious than the rancid leftovers I could get when I was a kid."
Her eyes fell on the bread in her hand, seeming to penetrate the rough surface and look into the distant past. In the depths of those violet eyes, extremely complex emotions surged instantly - a trace of vague memories of the "good times" where she might have had enough food and clothing; moreover, she felt an inexorable unwillingness, as if questioning her fate. Why did fate treat her so harshly? There was also the mark of humiliation, like a cold needle pricking her heart; and... the shadow of fear that was buried deep and almost became instinctive. These emotions were like undercurrents, flashing through her eyes, too fast for people to catch, but they left traces on her slightly tense jawline and the fingers that unconsciously clenched the bread.
Yavi stared silently at the fleeting flicker in Yennefer's eyes. He couldn't read all the details, and the emotional perception of demon hunters was far less sensitive than their sensitivity to monster scents. But he could clearly capture the core and heavy pain. This woman, before becoming a powerful warlock, must have experienced a purgatory-like childhood. This knowledge made his heart feel a trace of indescribable sluggishness.
He did not pick up the piece of bread. His left hand quietly lit up again, and the dim light almost blended into the jumping bonfire. He turned his palms, and two steaming bowls of soup, exuding a rich milk aroma and mushroom flavor, appeared in his hands. There were even small droplets of water condensing on the walls of the bowl. Then, several pieces of soup with distinct textures appeared. Perfectly dried meat jerky, and several pieces of exquisite bread that were roasted golden brown, smeared with attractive butter on the surface, exuding the aroma of wheat and warmth, also appeared out of thin air. The bread was fluffy and soft, and it bounced back immediately when pressed with a finger, which was completely different from the rough bread on the ground that was so hard that it could be used as a weapon.
Yennefer raised her eyebrows slightly, with a trace of surprise in her eyes. This almost perfect method of preservation and retrieval... Although some warlocks can also use space spells to achieve similar effects, she was a little surprised by the smoothness of Yavi's ability to do it so easily, as if he was just taking things out of an ordinary pocket. But she soon felt relieved that there were many secrets to the Witcher.
"Thank you." She was not polite and naturally accepted the warm and fragrant food from Yavi. When the mouthful of the thick and smooth mushroom soup mixed with cream cheese and the soft and sweet bread entered her mouth, she narrowed her eyes with satisfaction, and the haze caused by the memories on her face seemed to be warmed by the food. Yavi observed silently, and during this period of time together, he noticed a detail: this sorceress, who would be known for her power and glamor in the future, seemed to have an unusual preference for sweets - or is this perhaps an instinctive pursuit of good taste shared by many women?
Yavi also picked up a piece of delicate bread and chewed the soup slowly. The witcher's senses were always shrouded in the camp. From the corner of his eye, he keenly captured a skinny woman holding a child not far away. The child in her arms was opening a pair of clear but longing eyes, staring straight at the golden and soft piece of bread in his hand without blinking, and his small mouth was smacking unconsciously.
Yavi's movements did not pause at all. He still chewed the food in his mouth expressionlessly. He turned his left hand again, and a piece of butter bread that was exactly the same as in his hand, exuding an alluring aroma and heat, appeared instantly. He did not look at the mother and son, but just raised his arm seemingly casually, and the piece of bread drew a precise arc and landed steadily on the open space at the mother's feet.
The woman was stunned for a moment, then looked down in disbelief at the "treasure" that fell from the sky, and then suddenly looked up in the direction of Yavi. Her eyes instantly filled with great gratitude, and her lips trembled as she wanted to say something, but she was too excited to make a sound. She just held the child tightly, buried her head deeply in the direction of Yavi, and used silent body language to express the humblest and most sincere gratitude.
Yavi seemed unaware of this. He turned his face away, avoiding the grateful gaze, and continued to chew his portion of food with concentration, as if the trivial charity had never happened. Only the jumping bonfire reflected his chiseled profile, and the broken scratches on the leather armor that silently told the battle.
Night began to gnaw away at the last ray of light on the horizon. The village chief Brand stooped and staggered around the gradually dimming camp, arranging in a low voice the candidates for the night watch. The tired villagers accepted the arrangement in silence, and a few relatively strong men picked up simple wooden sticks or pitchforks and walked silently towards the key entrance to the east of the camp, their figures blending into the deepening dusk.
Yennefer walked to Yavi, looking at the looming figures of the vigilant villagers in the dimness, with a hint of unnoticeable worry in her violet eyes. "Yavi," she asked in a low voice, her voice becoming particularly clear in the cooling night breeze, "Do you think... there will be danger tonight?"
Yavi did not answer immediately. He raised his head and cast his gaze towards the deep night sky, which was gradually lit up by the stars, as if he was catching invisible messages in the air. After a moment, he slowly shook his head, his movements showing the caution and uncertainty unique to a witcher.
"I don't know." His voice was low and steady. Then, he closed his eyes slightly, as if he was mobilizing some kind of perception beyond ordinary people. The air seemed to be stagnant around him for a moment. When he opened his eyes again, he added, "The magic power... is recovering, but it is still very thin. It is far from enough to support a decent magic battle." This was both an answer and a reminder - they were still fragile.
As he finished speaking, the last ray of skylight completely sank into the horizon. The thick night was like a huge velvet curtain, silently covering the entire highland and the ruins of the village below. The light of the bonfire danced hard in the darkness, but could only illuminate a small area of uneasiness. The daylight in the camp ended completely, and the unknown long night quietly descended.