Last night was nothing short of mayhem. The energy had been building all day, and by the time we gathered around the tables, every Femcan was practically feral with anticipation. Each farm’s LPs had been prepared, marinated, and roasted to perfection, but something about this particular harvest seemed to bring out a hunger I’ve rarely seen. It was as if every Femcan felt the need to claim her piece, to devour her favorite cut, and to stake her place in the pecking order of the feast.
The prized cuts—the “sausages”—were the most sought-after delicacies of the night, and every Femcan seemed hell-bent on getting her share. Tensions rose fast as plates were piled high, and voices started to grow sharper, greedier. Femcan Mara and Femcan Rita had already loaded their plates, each claiming the sausages from the Dinner Invite LPs. Their glances shot around the table like warning signals, daring anyone to take from their precious platters.
I could see things were spiraling quickly. Femcan Zara and Femcan Rhea had even begun eyeing each other’s plates, and just when it looked like a brawl might break out over the remaining pieces, I decided it was time to step in.
“All right, everyone!” I shouted, bringing my hands down hard on the table. A hush fell over the crowd, though the gleam of hunger was still clear in every Femcan’s eyes. “Listen up! New rule—every Femcan will have the chance at a sausage, but only if you consume an entire LP from the inside out before taking seconds.”
There were a few grumbles, but I knew they would follow the rule. There was an understanding in our ranks; a balance of respect, even when our appetites ran wild. With the new rule in place, Femcans turned back to the feast with a renewed focus, knowing they’d need to earn their way to the prized cuts.
The tables were soon laden with every part of the LPs: ribs, roasts, and meticulously carved cuts arranged in neat rows, each dish glowing in the warm light from the fire. Femcan Tanya picked through her portion with a single-minded dedication, savoring each bite, her eyes never leaving her plate. Femcan Mara, ever the strategist, had chosen a tender city LP and was making her way through each section, trading the extra cuts she didn’t favor for portions of the sausages from the LPs who had been slow-roasted by the riverside.
Throughout the night, a rhythm settled in. Femcans traded cuts, claiming and swapping their favorite parts, but everyone adhered to the rule—no one could take seconds of the prized cuts until their entire LP was devoured. The feast turned into an intricate dance, with each Femcan working her way through the table in a mix of satisfaction and restraint.
As the night wore on, and the flames dwindled down to glowing embers, every Femcan was finally sated, the frenzied hunger replaced with a quiet, shared satisfaction. It was a night of indulgence, a feast for the ages, and when the final plates were cleared, we all knew that the next harvest would need to be just as grand, just as plentiful. We left the tables with a new sense of purpose, and a shared commitment to keep our network thriving, to ensure that every future feast would be a feast worthy of our ranks.
Until the next hunt,
Femcan Lana
