“Bastard!” “Hey, what did I do?” Rakos asks. He slams the cellar door shut and throws the latch. Might slow Indra down for a minute. Bell detours towards the kitchen table. “Sorry, not you. Bastard, get back here!” He grabs something from the table, then runs over to rejoin Rakos. A sinuous, furry shape wiggles in his hands. “Is that… yours?” Rakos asks. “She was playing with a keyring.” Indignation colors Bell’s face. “Which would have been really useful about thirty minutes ago.”
