Floki comes up behind Gyda, towering over her, and bends down like a crooked stalk to peer at the contents of her bowl. Delicately plucking up a wheel-shaped thing (still dry, not soaked in milk) between his thumb and fingertip, he holds it up to the light.

"What manner of confection is this?"

He pops it into his mouth. It's crunchy. His eyebrows shoot up.

"Huh!"