She’s so young, so early out of childhood, yet so soon to become her own adult. Sometimes J’nata wished she could trade the long arduous quarters of day for more time in her own life to experience and watch children become the same adults they were. Better adults. But it was never to be. Death came to parents within moments of children being born to their own children. Had any adults ever lived to see children of children grow to fruition? J’nata took the garden knife and started chipping away at the hardened dew-sap that had formed between the top of the apple and it’s stem. Ch’rie watched her curiously. “Why doesn’t it fall off like all the other fruit?” “All the excess sap from the previous dim day has hardened around the top of the fruit. It’s too hard to pull straight off so I’m cutting it down instead. The fruit’s fine, but it’s just a consequence of there being too much light during one of the dark days – all that excess sap caused by extra light has to leave the plants. Most of the time it simply drips into the ground from the plant leaves. In fruit-bearing trees is has a tendency to gather at the stems of the fruits themselves.” Ch’rie was eating into one of the fruit. “Those are supposed to be for the stalls," J'nata said. She stopped, teeth buried deep in fruit flesh, voice spluttering juice everywhere: “Still tastes pretty good!” A wry smile passed across J’nata’s face. “Hurry up and get that basket away to the stalls, otherwise people will be wondering what’s happened to you!”
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