Rufus stepped forward to the thorn tree, fishing out a hip-flask from his pocket. “Elijah Doomsday.” He spoke formally, in a carrying voice. “You were a disgrace, as a father and a man. You failed your son in every way; you took what wasn’t yours to take; you had a dog’s death and deserved it. I thank the man who snapped your neck because he saved me soiling my own hands. It’s a good thing you’re gone, and past time you were forgotten. Here’s your drink, now sod off.”
