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

Chapter 48
"-up, yeh bag of bones an' ugly!" The words flitted on the edges of my
consciousness, like a moth batting against the dimly-lit glass of a lantern,
"Wake up, I said!"
There was a sharp ache in my side that hadn't been there before, and when
the firm toe of a boot cracked against my ribs again the ache flared anew.
"I'm awake," I groaned, pushing myself off of a congealed puddle of my own
blood. I felt my throat for the wound that the githyanki had made. All that
was left was an itching scar, and even that seemed to be healing over nicely.
Even with Annah's sunny voice ringing in my ears, this was possibly the best
out of all the times I'd resurrected.
"Ach, I leave yeh alone for two hours and yeh just get yerself killed agin.
Lucky I have a knack fer squeezin' in places most o' Pharod's other sods
ignore, or I'd never have found yeh stashed here."
I took in my surroundings. By the look of it I had been flung behind the
barrels in this musty old alley and left to rot in the forgotten shade. Good
thing, too... I didn't relish another trip to the Mortuary or having to explain
myself to a Collector if I awoke in transit. Annah stood above me, panting as
if she'd run around half the Ward looking for me.
"Are you all right, Annah?"
She paused a moment, crouching down but taking care not to let her tail
drag in my blood. It flicked a little, betraying the stern countenance she slid
on. Annah was nervous.
"I... need yer help."
~~~~~
"I'd hate to keep Dak'kon waiting," I mused as we strode down the street.
"Ach, th' pasty-faced gith can take care o' himself."
I nodded. That was true enough, "Annah, I'm curious. I know you've seen
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