I wished I had gulped down that last cup of Mama’s tea but I settled for whistling instead. Rannit bustled all around me, stinking, cursing, working and drinking all at once all around me. Ogres passed, and each and every one dipped their gaze at me, as they had since that night. Darla said I’d attained some odd standing in the ogre community by saving the Hoogas the night we rescued Martha. I still don’t recall doing any such thing, but a town full of well-intentioned ogres is not a situation I wish to question. I was halfway to Darla’s when I heard the first screams. Screams and then shouts of warning and then a sudden rush of pedestrians towards doors and the slamming thereof. Within seconds the street was cleared, and I knew without seeing what was responsible for that. A moment passed, and then the black carriage rolled into view, cloud of flies buzzing, the stench of it reaching and quickly engulfing me. A much fresher corpse sat atop the rig, cracking a whip at empty air before he brought the conveyance to a halt at my feet.
What do You think about Hold The Dark: A Markhat Story?
