Jenny: This is Home

The Guttersnipe quirked a secret smile. Domitia would have singled out the one among them who played the harp. Just like a bard. But all she said aloud was, "Wherever Jason came from, probably. They will be busy in the next few days."

And then it was time for breakfast, and she gestured for Domitia to join her at the table. Crab-apples simmered in pools of melted butter, sprinkled in nutmeg; mutton filled the room with its heavy, enticing scents; jellies in green glass jars sparkled between fresh loaves of bread. Happily she slipped onto her bench by Jason and reached for the jug of milk. There was a plate of sausage in front of Domitia, and a platter of sagging, golden butter by Artos.

This is home, she thought giddily. This is my home.

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