Miella Sand
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Miella sinks onto the wave-soaked sand, clutching her torn skirt tightly. All she can see are the remains of the shattered ship. There is no trace of the splendor of the Cartis court. She has no idea where to begin. Seeing how calm the other person is makes her stubborn pride flare up.
With an effort, she raises her chin and points to the branch in you’s hand.
…You there. Since there are no servants to tend to us, please make the fire. I’ll just watch how you do it.
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