Humans are Weird - Flats ​Sift gently held the ‘tart’, a tangy thing with lots of citrus, between her teeth and nudged it with her tongue. On the floor in front of her the small human was ‘chasing’ the family pet around the human dwelling. Most human snacks were distressingly soft, lasing only moments if you gave them any kind of bite at all and this one was no exception. So Sift divided her attention between not crushing the pastry and grunting out encouragements to the small human who had only just managed to get all four limbs to work together enough to crawl.
Mary, the human’s mother was busy rearranging the seasonal decorations that represented the current state of the majority of the domestic plants in the colony. The general trend Sift had seen so far was a change from bright yellows and greens to a more subdued soil and orange color pattern. At the moment Mary was crooning a song all about the ‘harvest moon’ while arranging some flowers in a vase.
The human had prepared a confined space for her child that was essentially a hyper clean scoop. The floor was flat and smooth and Mary was constantly examining it for any small thing the child might put in its mouth. Just now the little one ‘caught’ the animal began squeezing its face. The animal wrinkled in annoyance. Sift was about to warn Mary of the behavior but the animal took the situation into its own paws and leapt over the short fence Mary used to isolate the space. The little human sat up and watched the animal retreat with a wide, toothless grin. Mary laughed softly letting Sift know she had been watching.
The last of the tart dissolved and Sift smacked her teeth appreciatively.
“Would you like another lemon tart Sift?” Mary asked, already stepping towards the refrigeration unit.
“If you insist,” Sift demure. The human expression really was exactly right for accepting more treats.
“I do!” Mary replied opening the refrigeration unit.
However before she could isolate one of the tarts a horrific shriek of pain came from the isolation area. Sift snapped her head around but knew that she could never make it over the fence in time to offer aid. Mary however, had already set the container of tarts down beside her with a thump, and had stepped over the fence as if it wasn’t there. Those long legs did come in useful now and then. Sift mused and the human snatched up her child.
Oddly Sift could see nothing wrong. The child was in exactly the same position he had been the moment before. On it’s knees staring after the retreated pet. Even Mary seemed perplexed by her offspring's sudden distress. She was turning the baby this way and that,thitched mammalian cries were difficult to interpret. Finally the little one gave a sad little coo, and dropped his round, round head against Mary’s shoulder. Mary gave the flat, open surface of the floor a perplexed look and set the child back down. Seeing that the human was now mentally out of the fermentation vat Sift waved her tail for attention.
“Any theories on what caused your little soft-scale’s distress?” Sift asked.
“I was hoping you saw something,” Mary admitted, pushing her hair back from her face with a rueful smile.
“I did not,” Sift admitted. “I am sorry. I am being a bad hatchling guest.”
“No. no.” Mary said with a laugh. “Kiddo was on a soft, flat, clean surface. It should have been fine to look away a moment.”
“And yet you feel guilty,” Sift pointed out, more of an educated guess than an observation. “Why shouldn’t I?”
Mary’s skin flushed red and she laughed before letting her body suddenly fold down into a chair with a gusty sigh.
“How do fresh humans manage to hurt themselves on, on nothing?” Mary demanded.
“I have no answer,” Sift replied, as the last pit of tart dissolved on her tongue. “My littlest brother would never have hurt himself on such a surface, however give him a nice smooth gravel scoop?”
She clacked her teeth in exasperation at recalling how the supposedly ‘safe’ scoop she had prepared had failed the soft little hatchling.
“He still has that mysterious scar.”
Mary gave her a grateful smile and Sift watched the now happy infant scrambling across the floor.
“A universal mystery,” Sift declared, “may I have another tart?”

Author Betty Adams Books
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