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Dandelions are green and crunchy, laying beautifully along the edges of the lunch tin, covering the eggs and ground-up wheat. Hans whistles as it goes into his bag, priding himself on the addition of mama’s herbs.

When lunch comes around, his friends gather.

”This doesn’t smell like thy usual box. Did thine aunt cook today?” Stinz asks. Hans grabs the box away just as Uwe makes a lunge for it.

”I made it.” Hans snaps, instantly blushing at the confession. Stinz’ eyes widen, Uwe frowns with what looks like envy. But nobody says another word, and the lunches continue.