“Always keep one for the trip out,” the master said, laying a thick, marbled slab on her plate. “Can’t tell whether it’s good till you open it up. They say a good seed means a good voyage.” His newly relaxed countenance made clear that ‘they’ included him. “This is as good as it gets. See that colour, that swirl? That’s what makes a good seed.”
It had a slightly salty, rich flavor, like a mix of walnut and cocoa and carrot, and the texture of an under-ripe pear, with little bits that crackled between her teeth like seeds.
“It’s delicious,” she exclaimed.
The master beamed. “That’s finest puna seed, that is.” He gave the nod to his first mate, a lanky woman with teeth jutting out like a rabbit’s. She left the little cabin carrying a platter piled high with puna slices to share with the c
