Gloamgrove

When the sky over Gloamgrove turns violet, the night folk gather at the porch table. The Owl wants two thirds, the Moth the rest, and the Hedgehog waits under the branch for whatever falls. You serve them with a single finger: draw a straight line and the fruit parts exactly where you drew it, the slices tumbling and swinging on real physics before the scales weigh every share. Pips and stones turn the blade, bruises have to be cut away, a hanging fruit keeps the slice on its stem, and one well-placed swipe can halve two fruits at once. Each fair share sows its pips higher up the Gloam Tree, from the trunk through three boughs to the crown. On the porch wait a knife roll of blades and boards to earn, and Cut & Choose, the old rule for two: one of you cuts, the other picks first.