ONE MORNING, as Seris entered the dining table, she was greeted by the pack members with a polite smile and nod. She smiled at Cassian, who was sitting at the head of the table, before sitting at her own seat to the right of Cassian.
“What is this?” Seris asked as she looked at the foods in front of her—golden roasted meat, vegetables, soft bread rolls still warm, sandwiches, and a bowl of fresh fruit. Then Isla put a glass of milk beside her plate.
Cassian leaned forward slightly. “Foods,” he answered simply, but his tone carried a certain warmth. “You don’t like it? You’ve been eating soft food and soup these past few days to nourish your health. It’s time to feel your appetite, little one.”
Seris tilted her head, curiosity shown in her eyes. “What’s the taste?” she asked.
Cassian
