(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

more...
In the darkness two voices whispered to each other, pitched and squeaky
and breaths fetid with the stench of rotting flesh.
"Is this the one?"
"It's a skull, ain't it? That's what HE wants. Grab it."
Morte turned around just as a sack popped over him and snapped shut.
"Hey! What are you-" he struggled, tumbling against the stale burlap. His
teeth slid uselessly against the thick and smelly cloth.
"Hey! Let go! Help! HELP!" Morte screamed. In the back of his mind, he
despaired that this time, he just might lose all hope of ever nestling between
a pair of bouncy mams ever again.
~~~~~
"CHIEEEEEEEEEEEEEFFF!!!"
With Morte's pitched squeals in my ears, I pushed past the merchant whose
sharp, cultured accent contrasted starkly against his muttered oath. One
hand cradled my shattered coccyx as I shuffled. Looking around all I could
see was a wormy tail as it flicked around the corner of a building.
My feet were numb and leaden as I tried to follow, but taking a few steps
already proved too much. I fell to my knees as Dak'kon raced after Morte's
voice, fading into the distance far too quickly for him to catch.
I pounded the pavement with my fist, cursing myself for adding another
broken bone to the list, and cursing those who abducted my companion.
The first friend I'd made in this bizarre new life.
Annah crouched next to me, saying something I couldn't quite hear through
the haze of pain and anger.
Damn it.
Morte.
~~~~~
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