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The scents of home

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Hota had long enjoyed her freshly cooked meat. She had rifled around in the small but sufficient kitchen grabbing piles of items from her wall spice rack. The spice rack was full of many popular seasons as well as the rare ones that only her Troll kin would know of.

Gnomeprika, Lemongrass, duskwood cinnamon – things that would usually be found on many spice racks. But she also kept a black canister off to the side. It was filled with a seasoning near and dear to her heart as the recipe was taught by her grandmother long dead.

It was a recipe handed down from generation to generation – it reminded Hota of home, and of her mother. She died when Hota was but a small little Troll. The smell of it just gave her a sense of peace and …that she was home no matter where she laid her head.

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