Drevash's common room had been transformed by the time the expedition finished settling the unconscious members upstairs and came back down to find the village headman, Durvan, had somehow produced a meal that was both more substantial and more varied than anything they had eaten in three days of canyon-adjacent terrain.
There was roasted meat, the kind of dish that people often forget they crave until the enticing aroma fills the air. There was also bread, still warm from the oven, and a clay pot containing a dense, dark stew made of mushrooms and grains, rich in flavor and clearly the result of several hours of careful preparation.
Durvan stood at the far end of the room, wearing a satisfied expression that suggested he understood the importance of providing nourishment to those who had just endured difficult circumstances, prioritizing their need to eat before engaging in conversation.
