"There is nothing wrong with conspiracy so long as it serves a purpose. But this? This serves no purpose. I wonder, what is it that they fight so fiercely for? Is it wealth? Men? Land? I think that it may be simply pride." She frowned, looking at the numbers on the clock above the kitchen. They currently said 4:38. "That said eleven when I sat down," she said, pointing at it. She felt guilty and annoyed with herself suddenly. "I think that I have been here for some time."
Siggy's stomach growled at the sight--and smell--of the bread, as alien as it was. "Thank you," she said, taking it. "I--yes, please." In truth, she did not like the tea that Peggy drank. Teas were medicinal, and Siggy preferred watered beer or fresh milk. But this was Peggy's home, and Peggy was kind, so Siggy made an effort.
"I tried to make dinner," she said, standing. "This oven is not good. It will not bake the bread nor smoke fish properly."