The Prompt
Mild day. The rain from yesterday had spoiled several dozen barrels of preserved food. Nothing directly dangerous, but it is a concern.
Kuri- Raphael
The day dares to call itself mild, but I know better. Yesterday’s rain crept in like a thief, rotting several dozen barrels of preserved food—no blade drawn, no blood spilled, yet the damage is done. It isn’t a crisis… not yet. But shortages are the kind of rot that spreads quietly, testing resolve long before hunger sharpens its teeth.
I’ve seen worse omens begin with less. We endure, we adapt, and when the next trial comes, it will find us leaner, angrier, and very much alive.
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