Barefoot, she wanders the kitchen in quiet, after he moves his things, falling into the routine she's gotten used to whether they're both awake at the same time, or it's just here, in the early morning, or even the late morning if she didn't sleep until late had become early.

Glasses have water poured in them. Plates are pulled out, and piled with some of each kind of jerked meat. Beside that that, the last of the fried up thick meaty morel mushrooms (cooked now, after the sickening disaster of trying them raw first), on a bed of collard and dandelions greens. Next over, a small helping of three different kinds of berries. It's not amazing, but it's better than some people are managing with having to go begging or hungry until helped.

But Thorfinn handles one part of it and she finds what she can in the forests as well.
In the end, it does them well enough. They never go hungry, or complain much about it.


"Bad dreams?" She asks, without looking over.

It's not pointed, and she probably won't ask again if he ignores it. Probably.