He was holding a little head in his hands. It looked as if it might have once belonged to some kind of elf or sprite. As far as he could make out, its face, its ears, and its hair all would have blended easily into the woods, as if it were designed to be camouflaged. But the little head had been cruelly severed from its body, and its mouth still seemed to be howling in pain. It had also been burned, and flecks of soot and ash came off in Tim’s hand. “Whoa,” Tim murmured. “Yeah,” Scott agreed. “Sick, isn’t it? Somebody making a cute little thing like that just to chop it up and burn it. Like it was garbage or something.” Scott picked up his skateboard. “Like I said, I’m not sticking around this place. I don’t want to meet the dude who thought that was fun. You coming?” Tim never took his eyes off the little head. “No, thanks,” he replied. “I’ve got stuff to do.” Scott shrugged. “Suit yourself.” “Thanks for the warning,” Tim called after Scott. The older boy quickly skate-boarded around the corner and vanished.
