Simon stared intently at the earthenware plate before him. The pork cracklings gleamed with a rich, glossy golden hue under the dim kitchen firelight, while next to them sat a bowl of stir-fried snails smothered in a thick, steaming, mahogany-brown sauce. The boy swallowed hard, reaching out to pinch a piece of crackling and toss it into his mouth.
His teeth clamped down.
Crack.
A crisp sound echoed, the initially greasy wild boar fat had been thoroughly rendered, leaving behind a perfect, airy crunch. With every chew, an explosion of rich fattiness intertwined with a hint of savory saltiness.
Without a word, Simon grabbed a second piece, then a third, chewing loudly.
Ewan leaned his hip against the table, arms crossed, lightly raising an eyebrow as he watched the teenager eat like a starved tiger: "How is it? Is it good?"
Simon's mouth was stuffed, his cheeks bulging. He hurriedly swallowed and nodded furiously: "...Give me a little more!"
