It didn't have the same taste. Although she'd never tasted it when she was alive, but she suspected it wouldn't have been the same. Now, it was wonderfully sweet, with a hint of salt and so good. It was like a furnace had been lit in her belly and was happily devouring the fuel she was giving it. For a little while, she could feel warm again.

"It's not my culture. Not anymore. And in my culture, we eat our dead enemies. We eat the flesh. Because it's good and it helps keep us going. It's... Hmmph. I dunno how to describe it. It's what we do. If that makes us evil, I don't wanna be good."