Chapter 4The world got colder. Clouds drifted. Land faded out of sight. Currents changed: the chillier waters of the North, versus the sun-touched turquoise of the islands. Lorre sighed internally and huddled into his coat and kept his small fire going, light and heat amid oncoming grey. Gareth, with a not insignificant amount of tact, offered to make tea, and produced nectarines and sweet oranges with impressive regularity, and asked about catching fish.
“I can,” Lorre said. “I can just ask. More or less.”
“Oh. But you don’t have to—wait, if you haven’t yet, does that mean you don’t eat meat—”
Lorre these days felt a mild amount of guilt about doing that—calling something alive to him, purely for that specific purpose; he’d caused enough harm to others—but only a mild amount. He’d done
