"What was it like then?" You ask, studying Micaja's face. "And how long has it been since she passed?"
“She's been gone for almost three years. And,” Micaja grimaces as he glances toward the figure moving toward both of you, “it was better.”
“Aindréas and Dervla were saving this for a stew, but I convinced them we'd traipse past another polyandrian field.” Roisin presents you with a plate of heavily salted meat--a thin layer of dry skin covering its outer surface. It is held together by a thick bone, and gives off the sickly sweet scent of decay. “There were plenty of battles in this area, we'll have a chance to harvest soon.”
- If you ask what a Polyandrian field is, go to 48
- If you do something else, place your next action in comments below and your story will continue as soon as possible.
I take the plate from her. "Polyandrian field?" I ask questioningly, unsure of her meaning. "And what do you mean 'battles'?" I want to sit down again but I'm not sure if I should return to where I last rested, or go inside.
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