“Are those for lunch?” I say to her. She hesitates, then shakes her head. Then the vegetables she’s chopping are obviously for dinner, but I say, “Ah, so you must be preparing a meal for the fish, then. You throw them overboard? Get the fish nice and fat?” She looks at me like she can’t decide if I’m crazy or stupid. Dabriel glances over, and it’s clear she probably thinks I’m both. Anya shakes her head again. “You feed them to the seagulls, then? I really don’t think seagulls like carrots.” A tiny smile begins to peek through. “They’re for dinner,” she whispers. “We’re having seagulls for
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