Gerta took a deep breath and felt the cold like knives in her chest. “It is possible that I am going to die,” she said. She wanted to feel badly about this, but her nose was running in the cold and it was hard to concentrate on her own death when she felt as if she might drown in snot. She wiped furiously at her nose and wished for a handkerchief. “It is a certainty that you are going to die,” said Mousebones. “All living things die. Then we eat their eyes.” “How nice,” said Gerta. “Are you going to eat my eyes?” “Well, obviously. You’d want a friend to do it, wouldn’t you?” Mousebones
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