The village was small—barely twenty houses clustered around a central well, with goats wandering freely between buildings and children playing in the dusty square. The kind of place Marron had stopped at dozens of times before.
But this time felt different.
Despite her winning a cooking competition, things were...a little hollow. People just went about their lives.
It's like cooking battles are their entertainment. Marron wondered if she should compete regularly to keep customer interest. But surely...they still needed food, even outside of the thrill, didn't they?
This time, when she set up the Food Cart in the village square, there was no subtle shift in the air. No heads turning instinctively toward her location. No inexplicable draw that made people wander over to see what smelled so incredible.
The cart was just a cart. Wood and wheels and a cooking surface that needed to be heated the normal way—with fire and patience and constant attention.
