“I have never understood potatoes,” Sissix said. “The whole point of a potato is to cover it with salt so you don’t notice how bland it is. Why not just get a salt lick and skip the potato?”

The thought of imposing on these strangers for a day or two– eating their food, sleeping on a grubby couch, listening to inside jokes– left Rosemary awkward. But the siblings’ congeniality did away with those feelings. Bear in particular made an effort to include her, and attempted to fill her in when the stories started going over her head (most of the stories fell into one of two groups: “the time we built this amazing thing” or “the time we smoked too much smash and did something stupid”). Once she had gotten past the memory of the oozing ketling carcass, she found the shreds of spicy, flame licked insect, wrapped in airy flat-bread and washed down with crisp kick, actually made for an enjoyable meal. By the time dinner was over, Rosemary found herself unexpectedly at ease.

Which of us are people and which of us are meat?