Madeleine's POV The second time I woke, it wasn’t to the damp chill of the forest floor, nor the metallic tang of my own blood. This time, a warm, savory scent filled my nostrils – something cooked, something real. My stomach grumbled, a deep, hollow ache reminding me of the cold, scavenged scraps that had been my diet for as long as I could remember. I opened my eyes cautiously, the rough cot beneath me unfamiliar but blessedly soft.A bowl of stew sat on a small, rickety table beside the bed. Steam still rose from it, carrying the rich aroma of meat and vegetables. Beside it, a thick slice of fresh bread. My mouth watered involuntarily. I reached out a trembling hand, scooping a spoonful of the stew to my lips. It was ambrosia, pure and simple, warming me from the inside out. As I ate, I listened. The thud of heavy boots on a wooden floor somewhere above, the distant rumble of an engine starting up, then fading. This place was alive, bustling in a way my solitary existence never wa
อ่านเพิ่มเติม