Breakfast or dinner? what's on the menu

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky, George and Amara stood atop the rooftop, catching their breath. George noticed a sizzling burn on Amara's calf, his eyes widening with concern.

"Oh no, did I do that? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Amara waved her hand dismissively, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Relax, George. It's already healing." True to her words, the burn was visibly closing up before his eyes. "Besides, I like that you've got guts. We need that kind of spirit."

George watched in fascination as the last traces of the injury vanished. "That's... incredible."

"What's incredible," Amara said, her tone impressed, "is how quickly you tapped into your core and whipped up that blood craft technique. Not bad for a newbie."

George rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin on his face. "Thanks, but it was mostly luck. To be honest, I'm feeling pretty burnt out now."