Nay, I answered my en’my, an’ I stroked my blade thru his throat. Magicky ruby welled’n’pumped an’ frothed on the fleece an’ puddled on the stone floor. I wiped my blade clean on the dead’un’s shirt. I knowed I’d be payin’ for it by’n’by but, like I said a while back, in our busted world the right thing ain’t always possible.
