"You're selling the Giant King short."
Cloudsong set his goblet down and slid a platter of golden, fried strips toward his companion. "Go on. Try one."
The stranger didn't hesitate. He picked up one of the strips and bit down. A satisfying crunch echoed in the quiet corner of the booth.
"Crispy. A blend of three spices... savory, with a hint of heat. What is this?"
It was excellent—the perfect bar snack to wash down a heavy ale.
"It's a bug."
Cloudsong grinned, watching the man's reaction. "Specifically, a carapace-covered grub. If you peel back the batter, you'll see the shell."
To demonstrate, Cloudsong popped one into his own mouth, crunching loudly.
The stranger paused. He didn't speak. He picked up another strip, inspecting it for a split second before eating it whole. He didn't peel it. However, his chewing slowed significantly, his eyes losing focus as his mind worked through the implications.
