“You’re not seeing my shadow because I ate mine in the womb.”
He didn’t exactly believe her, but then again, she really didn’t have one. “Is that normal?”
“It’s not very common, but it happens, and the changes are permanent.” She ran an index finger around the rim of her wine glass. “Have you ever tried umbratarian cuisine, my dear?”
“I have not,” he admitted. “To be honest, I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“I'm not surprised- there's not many of us out there yet. We refuse to cook the flesh of animals, and eat their shadows instead. It’s one of the more ethical diets available to our kind, as severing a creature’s outline from its body causes no pain. The flavor varies by species, as well as by what surface the shadow was carved from. Personally, I prefer those removed in my own garden. I’ve been growing some sage and rosemary out back, which add a nice touch.”
He eyed her carefully. "You cut off their shadows yourself?"
“Is that something you do often?”
“Not often enough,” she smiled. “I have a proposition for you. What do you say we fry yours up with a dash of sunflower oil, and we’ll eat it together? I can show you where all the best cuts are.”