Raror and Talina sat on either side of her while the rest of us fell down in a rough circle.
I watched with interest as a bevy of emerald-hairs entered the room and placed little tables before us. More followed, handing around bowls. I wasn’t surprised to find them filled with the pink fruit; it was a light pastel shade with a creamy seed-filled center, the way I remembered a melon from years before. But then we received a second plate, a type of slimy-looking salad. It held an array of green-toned weeds, which I had a sneaking suspicion was going to taste very salty.
“I apologize for the limited variety of nourishment,” Gladriel started, her arrogant tone not sounding at all sorry, “but we do not eat other than krillonia, cucreamer and the blanch weeds.”
I decided to try the weeds first. That way I could wash them down with the semi-sweetness of cucreamer fruit, which I already knew was edible. The first bite was as predicted: salty with a crisp and crunchy texture, and a tang in the aftertaste. But it wasn’t half bad.
Before I knew it, I’d finished my entire portion. Lucy, looking a little green around the edges, offered me hers. Eagerly I grabbed it; I was starving. I still felt restless. My energy was depleted. I could feel the depths, but I wanted to fill it with something – anything – to staunch the aching hollowness. Before I knew it, all three of my bowls were empty and I was semi-content.
Sitting back, I noticed Gladriel had not touched her portion. She was staring at me, her yellow eyes cold.
“Why have you visited Spurn, and why do you wear that mark?” Her words were hasty, one running over the next.
I sucked in a breath, needing a minute to figure out the best way to broach the subject.
“Well,” I finally said, “I’m here for Talina.”
Silence echoed around the room. No one seemed willing to break the fragile air, but I had their undivided attention. Finally, Gladriel spoke.
“Talina?” Her pulse was visibly pumping in the pink skin on her throat. “How can she be special ... wanted ... needed for anything of importance?”
“Mother, for the last time, stop this.” Raror was on his feet, the air around him echoing his anger. “Stop blaming Talli for your mistakes and hurts. It is not even Spurnian to keep holding on so hard to the wrongs you feel.”
I expected Gladriel to rise to her feet in her usual wave of anger, but instead she shrank in on herself at her son’s words. Raror faced me, and with a sigh of resignation spoke.
“I have known since her water-birth that Talli was both beyond-this-world special, and someone I would love more than my own self.”
Talina’s lashes fluttered at these words. She pressed one of her hands against her cheek, hard enough that her nails would be cutting small crescents into her lightly pinked skin.
“She’s made me a better Spurn, and has given all of us a welcome insight into humility, empathy and sympathy.” His words rose to a crescendo now.
I felt an urge to move back on my mat, but his will just wasn’t strong enough for me to obey.
“I tell you this now, Abigail of First World, so you understand: I will never let my sister go without a battle.”
“Raror, please.” Talina’s gentle voice drew our attention. “Please let Abby tell her story. I still do not know anything, and I long to understand.”
Raror deflated as if the wind had died in his sails. He sat again.
And suddenly I had the floor.
I jumped right in this time, before we were interrupted by more angry family members or ... maybe pirates? It was a water world; it could happen.
“I’m a halfling, the same as you, Talina. And in fact our fathers are from the same race of ... people.” I just couldn’t bring myself to say god, at least not before giving a little more explanation. “I’ve only recently found this out myself. We’re half-Walkers.”
Talina nodded. “Yes, Gladriel has explained my father was Walker, and that he was from another world, but that is all she knew.”
I shot a glance at Gladriel. Her gaze was fixed and I realized she was staring without focus into the center of the room. Her cold features showed no emotion.
“Walkers are an immortal race; they wander amongst the worlds, as they have no planet of their own. They’re the very reason we all have stories and a history of gods.”