"Isn't it obvious?" Gura hissed, her voice low but sharp as a blade. She darted a glance over her shoulder, as if the shadows themselves might be listening. "The pieces were the ones with rat poison inside of it! I intended to toss them away—only for me to no longer find them there again!"
The words dropped like stones in water—heavy, disturbing, and impossible to ignore.
Farra blinked, her brow furrowing as silence fell between them. But instead of reacting with alarm, she gave a quiet exhale, the kind born of long years and worn patience. She reached out, patting Gura's back with a firm touch, like soothing a skittish child with a bad dream.
"Is that why you look so scared?" she said, her voice laced with disbelief, her eyes sharp. "It would have been a different case if the food was still fresh. Only a mad person would eat pieces of rotten foo—"
She cut herself off, correcting with a grim frown.
"…worse yet, one they have no clue where it came from."
