After a year of siege, Padima had lost her squeamishness about grinding insects into the morning bread. When a small, bluewinged beetle wiggled its way to the top of the barley bin, she almost ignored it—until she saw the way it skittered when Jari, her assistant, tossed it onto her millstone.
“Get me a ladle!” Padima snapped, lunging toward the stone. T…
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