Disclaiming Banner: All standards apply, except for the one on the washing machine.
Spice
It was impossible to say, really, how much Mai loved fire-flakes. Comforting in the dreary times. They could be fried in oil, baked in the hearth, or roasted right in with the coals. Fire-flakes could be sweet or savory, but they were always spicy.
It was something to look forward to each day. It was something she could share with her brother as well in the milder forms. They made him drool on Mother.