11/9/2026, 2:06 PM
the correction earns a small inclination of her head.
her attention returns to the stone as he settles opposite her, and she leans forward to examine it. the spiral is peculiar, its ridges following one another inward until they disappear into a little hollow at the center. she has seen snail shells arranged similarly, though never one so large, nor one made of something quite so substantial. with the careful application of a forepaw, she turns it slightly, inspecting the underside.
yanggadi saghani,she repeats, carefully this time. she had not intended any offense, although she finds herself faintly bewildered by the insistence. nevertheless, she supposes he is entitled to his preferences, and she has little interest in quarreling over something so inconsequential.
yes. i eat them,she concedes, without any particular shame.
but i do not chase them. they have learned that i will not hurt them.whether they understand the distinction beyond that is another matter entirely. she has never thought to ask, and doubts they would have much to say on the subject if she did. the herd knows her scent, her voice, her weakness. perhaps that is enough.
they are not stupid,she adds, almost defensively.
her attention returns to the stone as he settles opposite her, and she leans forward to examine it. the spiral is peculiar, its ridges following one another inward until they disappear into a little hollow at the center. she has seen snail shells arranged similarly, though never one so large, nor one made of something quite so substantial. with the careful application of a forepaw, she turns it slightly, inspecting the underside.
i do not know,she admits eventually. it is an unfortunate answer for someone whose responsibilities involve interpreting the otherwise unknowable, but she has never claimed to understand every peculiar thing the earth produces.
it looks like a shell. perhaps something lived inside it once, long ago.she considers the possibility for another moment, wondering what manner of creature might have possessed such a curious little house. there is something rather melancholy about the thought of it surviving only as a stone.