Begone I say, said Suttree, shucking the tattered blanket at him. Why you dipshit idjit if anybody begones anywhere it’ll be you with a arrowbolt up your skinny ass. Suttree batted his eyes. Are you real? he said. Damned if you aint beyond the bend in a queer road. Where’d you up from anyways? From over the mountain. What are you, a yankee or somethin? I’ll tell you what I’m not. What’s that? A figment. I’m not a figment. A what? A figment. A frigging figment. He crooned a weird laugh. The hunter stared at him.
