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July 15 - July 19, 2025
“Eshathē zh’ūltis.” He closed his eyes. “Īt eshanā zh’ūltis.” I waited to see if he would say anything comprehensible. “What does that mean?” “You are stupid … and I am stupid.”
“Because I’m zh’ūltis,” I muttered resignedly. A corner of his mouth pulled up. “I have been telling you that.” “Yes.” “You keep disagreeing.” “I did, but you were right all along.”
“He saved my life. He’s not enslaved to me, but he—he’s my partner. And I won’t—”
“By the way, Robin,” he murmured. “The expression on your demon’s face when you called him your partner was fascinating.”
“In my world,” he said unexpectedly, “there is a type of … tree.” I faced him again, my brow furrowed in puzzlement. “On the tree, it grows small …” He cupped his hands as though holding something. “… small fruits. The outside is poisonous, deadly, but inside is juicy and sweet. We fight over these trees. I have killed to take the fruit when it is ripe.” He picked up another s’more cookie. “These are better.”
He thought my cookies were better than a fruit he’d killed to eat. My hands, submerged in soapy water, paused. I’d have to make sure no one ever tried to take food from him. It sounded dangerous.

