Clio’s eyes widened as the man placed a creature on the table in front of her. A stick-slim, silver fish, but flawlessly smooth and stiff and arched in one direction before the tail curved up into a beautifully perfect quartet of spines. It didn’t move.
“A fork”, the man said.
“Affork”, Clio murmured, eyes still fixed on it. She reached out to touch it.