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Fred, for her part, had not exactly hated these last few days. True, the hut was cramped and full of the smells of different flowers and herbs, but it wasn't so different than what she was used to with Wenda, and there was a bit more company, opportunity to step away and browse the market if she got bored or stiff (Nate had bought her a lovely necklace her gaze had slightly lingered on at one such market, at first to her chagrin, but she couldn't deny that it sat beautifully on her pretty neck, and she loved it despite herself), and something productive to do. Phelyp even had a mirror and tiny washroom where she could pretty herself up every morning. The whole situation was a definite step up, and though she was constantly itching to have her voice back, and still awkwardly stuck in the middle of Nate's obvious feelings for her, she was far from miserable. Phelyp's cooking, though... She was already tired of that. He just made the same vegetable medley in slightly different forms for every meal. But there was something about this one that was a little different, and she couldn't say she minded it. And it was near the end of the meal that...
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