The wicker chair hung quietly on the balcony, cradled by thick ropes, a patient nest waiting for its occupant. Sunlight slipped through the woven curves, scattering soft shadows that swayed with the breeze. When she settled into it, the chair answered with a gentle swing, slow and steady, creaking with every pass as if rocking her away from the noise of the world. For a moment, there was only the wicker's tired groan, the open sky above, and the feeling of being suspended between rest and dream.

  Sitting on the rusty chair was a little girl with sparkling eyes and a mouth full of drool, splattering down the front of her clothes. Who else could it be other than me? Little, innocent, adorable me. Llyne. Yes. No mistake there. Innocent.

  My eyes were glued to the birds trespassing on our porch. I smacked my lips, throat bobbing as my imagination went to work. In my head, they transformed into perfectly roasted birds, steam rising invitingly from golden skin as they were served on a silver plate. My stomach caught the idea immediately and growled in enthusiastic agreement. I pressed both hands to it and whispered, "Shhh… don't scare bird001, bird002, and bird003."

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  That's right. I named them. Right before they became my dinner for the day.

  Clang! Click! Bang!

  So loud. You're going to scare our dinner away.

  I turned and saw Ma stepping out through the front door. Arms crossed, eyes sharp, she looked at me like I'd committed a terrible crime. I hadn't. I swear. All I did was name my dinner.

  "What are you doing, dear?" she asked.

  "Appreciating nature, Ma," I replied in my usual tone. Far too usual for a kid who had just lied to her parent. Though, to be fair, it was a half-truth. You just had to replace nature with dinner.

  She waved me off. "Go take a shower. I can smell your stench from inside."

  I puffed out my cheeks. Ma lying again. Figures.

  I hopped off the chair and rushed back into the house, heading toward my room. From a distance, harsh cries tore through the air. The crows exploded into frantic, ripping caws, each one scraped raw with panic, echoing like an alarm torn straight from their throats.

  I clasped my hands together and whispered under my breath, "Welcome to our dinner table, bird121, bird122, and bird123." Why the change in names? Well, they didn't tell me whether they liked the previous names, so I gave them new ones. I'm nice, right?

  That night, dinner was as delicious as always. Juicy, tender meat, accompanied by vegetables of every color.

  A perfect meal.