Into a shallow hands-breadth bowl, it ladles a stew, still bubbling thickly.
The sensual stink of boiled meat and savoury herbs tickles the aching animal hunger long restive in Umin's belly.
Without a stray sound, the waifish apparition sets the ladle aside, all movement eerily smooth and parsimonious.
A supple porcelain doll.
It takes up a rough spoon, sinking it with matronly care into the opaque broth.