Blake Renworth

“Brimir: “Why would she cook it if she didn’t mean for us to eat it?” Callum: “She could be making it for herself.” Asher: “Did you see her? She’s tiny! She couldn’t eat an entire deer.” Gideon: “Maybe she’s making stew.” Blainn: “It doesn’t matter, we’re not eating it anyway. She might’ve poisoned it.” He was standing with his weight on one leg. Callum: “I really don’t think that’s likely.” Ford: “Yeah, if she wanted to kill us, she could’ve in our sleep.” Asher: “Or not rescued us in the first place.” Brimir: “Well I think she means for us to eat it. And I’m starving.” Callum: “It’s rude. She hasn’t offered it to us yet.” Ford: “Rude? You’re kidding? You’re seriously worried about manners right now, Callum?” Blainn: “I think it’s rude to cook an entire deer right in front of a bunch of hungry refugees and not offer them any.” Asher: “I thought you said it was poisoned and you weren’t eating it.” Blainn: “She still could’ve offered us the poisoned meat.” Gideon: “I thought we decided it’s not poisoned? Do you think it really could be?” Asher: “No, that’s not the point. If Blainn thinks it’s poisoned, it shouldn’t matter either way whether she offered us any, since he’s not going to eat it anyway.” Brimir: “So are we eating it or not?” Callum: “Not until she comes back and offers it to us. My mother always said that a good hostess makes it very clear what is expected of her guests.” Ford: “Okay, first of all, we’re not guests. We’re exiles. And second of all, we slept on the floor. I really don’t think this was the hosting your mother had in mind. And third, your mother…” But”
― Blake Renworth, The Exiled Seven