The Gusting Rot
By Musuko

The fire crackled and spat as the sagboar’s fat dripped from the spit. Long shadows flickered on the sandstone block walls, reaching in long fingers into the tunnel’s distant reaches, into the infinite dark.
	Hunter Garson raked the embers with the point of his sword.
	“It’s the smell that gets you first. They got a name for it, you know? The Gusting Rot they call it. Comes wafting along like it’s made of something that don’t got no business being in the air. Like an animal it is. Stalks you like you’re its prey. Seeks you out, that’s what it does. And when it gets to you, you know...its master ain’t far behind.”
	Blunth snorted. “Bollocks.”
	“You say that. Oh you say that.”
“What we’re dealin’ with here,” said Blunth, pausing to crack a sagboar thigh bone between his teeth, prising the splinters apart and lapping the meaty marrow from within, “is just an effing stinky fucker who ain’t never had a bath. It’s not some fucking jibbly monster.”
“But you ain’t smelt it, ain’tcha? Just you wait. When you smell it, you won’t be calling it just a smell. Oh you just wait, Blunth.”
	“Smell can’t hurt you. Just plug your nose if it’s too much. Stands to reason, dunnit?”
“Wait and see...”
Blunth reached across to the spit and tore a slab of sizzling meat away with his naked fingers. The greasy fat ran down his chin as he stuffed it into his maw. “We ain’t got no business being down here anyway.”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Blunth.”
“If the Deacon’s men finds out we come down here...”
	“They ain’t gonna find out, are they?” Hunter set his sword down and folded his arms across his knees. “Are they Blunth? You’re gonna keep your fat mouth shut and just do as you’re told, aren’tcha?”
	“Bleh!”
“Don’t you ‘Bleh’ me, ya fat oaf.”
Blunth tossed the bone away into the shadows. “Don’t like tombs. Air’s weird in tombs.”
	“Well, I don’t like ‘em either, do I? You think I wanna be down here? Like I’m on effing holiday? You ain’t the only one with the creeps, Blunth. Difference is I’m not bitching about it! Eat your pig and shut ya trap. And just hope he turns up tonight.”
	“What if he don’t?”
	“Then we have to keep coming down here ‘til he do! But don’t you worry. He’s gonna come. An’ when he does, he’s gonna have a nice surprise. I gots my special trick ain’t I?” Hunter patted his breast pocket, grinning.
	“What, that flower thing you got at the appo...appo...”
	“The apothecary, yes Blunth.”
	“Well that’s bollocks and all. That ain’t gonna do anything.”
	“We’ll see, won’t we?”
	Blunth pulled his own sword up from the stone floor. It was a long, ugly lump of battered, rusted iron, with an edge so blunt that it was more of a bludgeoning weapon than a blade.
	“I think this’ll work better than that daft little plant.” He swung the sword in a wide arc, casting fresh shadows and wafting the fire into a plume of sparks. “Proper weapon this is. While you’re faffing about, I’ll split him open. Job done.”
	“Yeah, well, thinking ain’t for you, Blunth. Stick to what you’re not totally crap at, okay? I’m sure one day we’ll figure out what it is.”
	Blunth froze, his sword hovering with its bent tip pointing into the darkness.
	“What’s that?”
	Hunter grabbed his sword and jumped to his feet. “What is it?”
	“You smell that?”
	“Smell what? I don’t smell anything.” Hunter gripped his sword tighter, the long blade wavering, reflecting the fire’s light against the darkness beyond. “Is it...him?”
	Blunth dropped the point of his sword to the ground and leant his weight on it, cocking up one leg. He turned his big, toothy grin toward Hunter, who shifted instantly from one mortal panic to another as Blunth’s perfectly-timed fart blasted like a trumpet and echoed into the distance down the long tunnel. Hunter dropped his sword and covered his nose.
	“You dirty fucker!”
	Blunth roared with laughter. “Oh I got you good.”
	“Ugh! I can taste it! You peeled the fucking lining off my eyeballs! Damn it Blunth!”
	Satisfied, Blunth parked himself back on the floor, shuffling up to the fire. He gave the spit a half turn and picked at the meat.
	“One of these days I’m gonna do you, you know.” Hunter tossed himself down to sit and sulk and stare into the flames. “Stick you right in the gut and twist. Serve you damn right it will.”
	“Bleh!” Blunth grinned and lifted up the spit and the remains of the sagboar, like it weighed nothing. “You want some of this?”
	“No, you finish it.” Hunter lay down on the stone, wriggling sideways until the heat from the fire was just right. “Wake me up when he turns up.”
	“Righto! And then you can waggle your flower at him.”
	“Shut up! Just you wait. You’ll see...”

The smell came first. It rolled like a wave through the motionless air, creeping feelers along the stones, probing into cracks and seeping, ever mobile, to spread and flood the air of the tomb’s tunnel. The campfire’s flames flared blue, then spluttered and guttered out, suffocated by the foul, ethereal stench.
	Blunth snorted, rolling onto his back. It took a moment for his stunned sinuses to send their panicked report through to his sleeping mind. He woke with a roar, sword in paw, slashing at the air. Beside him, Hunter jolted upright and staggered to his feet, his paws clutched over his muzzle.
	“The smell!” he cried. “He’s here! Blunth, he’s here! We’ve gotta...gotta...ugh.” He turned to the wall and bent over, violently retching. The air was a thick paste, inescapably laced with the fetid miasma of a thousand rotting corpses.
	“I’ve got him,” grunted Blunth, one paw clutched over his nose, the other gripping his sword. He flailed blindly at the darkened tunnel, blinding himself with his own shadow.
	“Can you see him?” croaked Hunter. “I can’t see him. Where is he?”
	Into the silence that followed came the voice, whispering and cracked, carrying the centuries in its broken tones.
	“Gentlemen...”
	Blunth wheeled around, staggering on one foot. Hunter scrambled to dive away from the sweeping arc of the great sword.
	Beside the fire’s embers the stranger sat, a hunched over assemblage of bone and sinew, cloaked and hooded with rags, steaming with streamers of pale dust. The head lifted, groaning and cracking, and milky white eyes stared out above the bony hollow of a broken muzzle and absent jaw.
	Blunth raised his arm and the great sword’s battered tip scraped sparks from the roof of the tunnel.
	“Wait!” cried Hunter, his paw out in front of Blunth. He stared down at the stranger, his other paw slipping into his pocket. “You’re him, aren’t you. The Gusting Rot?”
	The stranger turned his head, jerking in fits and starts, with the snap of crunching bones. An arm raised, finger curling, rotting and blackened flesh peeling away from the bones and dropping in long slivers to the floor. Hunter bit back another retch and Blunth lowered his sword to cover his muzzle with both paws.
	“I have that name,” said the stranger. “Occasionally.”
	Hunter whipped his paw free from his pocket and raised it high, clasping the desiccated flower in the fading light of the fire’s embers. “Then by my might and the strength of my mind, I command you to relinquish your secret of eternal life!”
	The stranger stared, unblinking. The small yellow flower quivered. A petal snapped free and began its lazy, swirling dance down to the floor. “I’m sorry?”
	Hunter adjusted his stance. He planted his feet far apart and held the flower up higher. He fixed his gaze on the stranger, as hard as he could manage, as hard as steel. He gripped the hilt of his sword and inhaled deeply, fighting past the urge to vomit as the stench filled his mouth and nose. His eyes watered and stung. “By my might and the strength-”
	“Yes, I heard you,” said the stranger. His head tilted with a snap of the neck. The shoulders started to shake, loosening clouds of dust and a fresh wave of pungent rotting stench. The sound that rose forth could possibly be interpreted as a laugh...or the croaking gurgle of a suffocating man. “You are trying to defeat me? With a flower?”
	Hunter’s arm lowered, hesitant. “Y-yes?”
	“I told you it wouldn’t work,” hissed Blunth. He raised his sword.
	“To obtain my immortality?” wheezed the stranger.
	Hunter held his paw out to stop Blunth. “That’s right. Why, are you ready to die?”
	The shaking laugh continued. The shape beneath the rags seemed to shift, a shoulder dropping with a tearing sound, the upper torso lurching drunkenly sideways. The protruding arm reached for the other and gripped it, twisting it, pushing it back upwards and reseating it with a brittle crunch.
	“You must steal what can be obtained honestly?”
	Hunter stared, frowning. So many eloquent responses presented themselves as candidates for his response. He settled, however, on: “huh?”
	Slowly, the stranger began to rise. Hunter and Blunth stepped backwards, not for fear of any perceived threat, but as if pushed by the wave of rotting air that swelled outwards from him. Effluent discharges from the sewers of plague-filled cities were more fragrant. The rotting fields of corpses ten days after a battle were a sweet summer’s meadow in comparison to this stink. It somehow managed to smell like an ancient, dusty, airless tomb, and a rotting, bloated, maggot-churned fresh corpse, both at the same time, with every nuance of the aroma offending the senses in its own bitter, unpleasant way. Even Blunth, stout and implacable in almost any occasion, spasmed with an involuntary need to gag.
	The stranger straightened up, jerking and cracking as jumbled bones slipped against each other. The front of his ragged cloak fell open, revealing the shambled chaos behind it, a patchwork of decayed flesh and matted fur, mingled with colours and species indistinct and unidentifiable. Here and there the flesh peeled away in rotten lumps, exposing the bone and dusty mounds of organs within.
	“You are aware,” wheezed the stranger, “of the concept of trade? Does trading still exist? It has been a long time. A long, long time...”
	“Yes, we’re aware of trade,” snapped Hunter.
	“And you wish...you wish to obtain immortality from me?”
	Hunter brandished his sword without any real heart behind it. He kept staring at that hollow, dusty, rotting husk. “We came here to take it...”
	“I will give it to you in trade. For a nominal token.”
	“I don’t like this,” said Blunth. “It’s a trap is what it is. Hunter, I don’t like this. I wanna get outta here Hunter.”
	“Shut it! Just...be quiet, okay? What kind of trade?”
	“A small trade. A simple trade. I will take some small items of necessary value to me, of minor value to you. And in exchange I shall grant you that which you seek.”
	“Immortality?”
	“Yes. Life endless and boundless. You will walk the earth for all its years. None can harm you. None can kill you. You will be undefeatable. You will rule all that you wish to rule and love it and enjoy it for days eternal. For a small trade.”
	“Hunter, this ain’t good.”
	“Quiet! What is it you want from us in exchange?”
	The stranger coughed a cloud of dust from his broken muzzle. An arm extended, pointing at Hunter. “Your nose,” he said, and turned his finger towards Blunth. “And his tongue.”
	“No way! I’m not letting you cut out my tongue!”
	“My nose and his tongue? And for that we get to live forever? What do you want ‘em for?”
	The stranger wafted his paw across his broken face. “Spares,” he whispered.
	“This ain’t right,” said Blunth. “Messed up is what it is. Don’t want no part of this. I’m going.”
	“You get right back here,” snapped Hunter. “You wanna walk away from living forever? You dumb lump? Immortality! You know what that means, right? Don’t be a bleedin’ fool Blunth!”
	“Don’t wanna live forever without my tongue.”
	“You can get a new tongue, made of solid gold! We will be rich, Blunth! We can have our own country. Our own empire! We won’t need no fucking tongue or nose! We can have slaves to speak for you, to taste things for you, to smell things for me! We’ll have women, Blunth, and men! All bowing to our wishes! Anything and everything we want for just a small sacrifice. We won’t even miss them! Damn it, Blunth, have a bit of imagination!”
	Blunth thumbed the hilt of his sword and chewed on his lip. “My own country?”
	“The whole world if we want it!”
	“But no tongue?”
	“Just one little tongue in exchange for everything else.” Hunter turned to the stranger. “Right? That’s the deal? No tricks?”
	“You will both live forever,” said the stranger, “if I get his tongue and your nose.”
	“Right then. That settles it for me!” Hunter swung his sword up, holding the blade horizontal above his nose. He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He clenched his eyes shut and pressed the edge against his nose. “Here goes...”
	“Do you accept the deal?” wheezed the stranger.
	“I accept the bloody deal!” Hunter panted, readying himself, feeling the sting of the blade ready to slice through the flesh of his muzzle.
	“And do you?” said the stranger, milky eyes staring at Blunth.
	“I guess so.” He looked down at his sword, turning it, checking the blade. “Alright, yeah, I accept.” He hefted the sword up and wedged the end of it into his mouth, twisting the mangled tip against the root of his tongue.
	“Then, gentleman, I am happy to trade...”
	The change happened in an instant, but it took much longer for Hunter and Blunth to realise it. Hunter’s sword fell down through empty air, where a moment before his nose had been, and Blunth’s sword jabbed into an empty maw, hollowed of any trace of the tongue that had occupied it seconds previously. There was no blood. There was no pain.
	“Ag duh ugk?” cried Blunth dropping his sword and jamming fingers from both paws into his mouth. They felt around the empty space between his teeth, finding nothing.
	“My nose!” yelped Hunter, letting his sword fall clumsily away, feeling his fingers over the smooth patch of fur that now tipped his muzzle. He hadn’t sliced, as he had expected. And Blunth hadn’t completed his intended crude gouging. The body parts had just...gone.
	“Gentlemen,” whispered the stranger. “I thank you. The trade has been most valuable to me. I am sure you will be pleased too.”
	“Wait,” shouted Hunter. He scrambled for his sword, lifting it and aiming the quivering tip at the stranger. “You haven’t made us immortal yet!”
	The stranger started to shimmer, dust billowing up off of his shoulders. He blurred around the edges, as if vibrating violently. His voice came as a distant whisper, even quieter than before. Rapidly, he was fading away to smoke. “I have,” he whispered. “I have given you life eternal. Try to die...try to die and you will see...”
	Hunter lunged, his sword slicing through dusty smoke. The stranger was a ghostly gas, swirling away, and all that remained was a stench that Hunter could not smell, and a foul taste in the air that Blunth could not taste. And then that too faded, as if swept away by a fresh breeze, even though the air in the tomb’s tunnel remained as still and dead as ever. The fire’s embers began to flicker and grow, lighting back into steady flames that lit the tunnel around them. The stranger was gone, and Blunth and Hunter stared numbly at each other.
	“Ow ogh oo ee oo?” said Blunth.
	Hunter stroked his fingers over his nose, mesmerised. “He took my nose!”
	“Ee igged uhh...”
	Hunter sighed and turned away. He kicked at his pack and muttered a curse. “You make even less sense than usual, Blunth. Gonna have do teach you do write.”
	Blunth kept probing his mouth, thick fingers pressing deeper into his throat. He started to whimper.
	“Maybe he did it,” said Hunter. “Maybe he made us immortal.”
	“Ow ang ee ell?”
	Hunter paused, thinking...translating. “How can we tell?”
	“Yagh.”
	“Well...I guess one of us has do get killed. And then we’ll know.”
	“Ag uggengh oung erry goog.”
	“Blunth, just be silent for a bit. Okay?”
	“Unghay.”
	Hunter kicked at the fire, smothering the flames with the splinters of unburned wood and congealed lumps of sagboar fat. He scooped up his pack and slung it over his shoulders, then nudged Blunth until he did the same. The long tunnel faced them, dark and empty, a half mile walk to the reach of the sun, and then another half mile further to reach the fresh air of the world above.
	“Come on Blunth. Let’s go.”
	Blunth scraped the tip of his sword against the stone floor. “I olg you ig wagh a-”
	“Shut up.”
	They trudged, silent and morose. Insects skittered unseen in their path, parting for their passage and then returning to their subterranean lives behind them. Hunter’s fingers strayed to his nose as they walked, and beside him Blunth did the same, exploring his mouth again, as if by repeated checking he might find suddenly that his tongue had returned to him. Gradually, the watery light of the sun reached them, and they quickened their step. The mouth of the tunnel beckoned, a pinprick of light that grew steadily as they walked towards it. They could feel the freshness of the air, brushing gently against their faces, catching their fur and washing away all traces of the stench of the stranger, the Gusting Rot, leaving only the memory of its foulness, making it all seem like a dream. They stepped out into the fragrant chill of the mountain valley, climbing up over the broken boulders that, until very recently, had covered the tomb’s entrance, and stood staring down the valley...
	“Oh crap.”
	...down at the fifty soldiers of the Deacon’s Watch climbing up towards them.

The fat man, law man for the town of Carridge, deputy to the Duty Deacon, stood on a two foot tall wooden platform, giving him a total height of six. He snuffed at his fingers and turned heavy pages in a prim and elegantly-engraved ledger. The paper breathed the strength of the law, and his heavy ermine coat spoke of the regency of the state. He ran a stubby finger down a numbered column, murmuring under his breath. Around him the crowd waited in subdued silence, filling the small town’s central square, their glances dashing back and forth between the law man, and the soon to be condemned, standing stripped naked, their wrists bound behind them with strong leather thongs.
	“Hmm,” said the law man, fixing his gaze on Hunter and Blunth. “Are you Rockwell weasels?”
	Blunth shook his head. Hunter jabbed him with an elbow and squared his shoulders, glaring up at the law man. He didn’t have to raise his head far. “We ain’t no stinking weasels.”
	The law man trailed his finger further down the page. “Northern Ursine?”
	“Do we look like effing bears?”
	The law man sighed. The crowd’s silence was beginning to waver, with restless murmuring passing through them. “It is important,” said the law man, in a slow, measured, patiently impatient pace, “for us to properly register your details prior to the commencement of these proceedings.”
	“Before you lop our ‘eds off you mean.”
	“Such an outcome is regrettably possible.” The crowd raised a perfunctory cheer, cut off by a sharp wave of the law man’s arm. “I shall enter you as species unknown.”
	“We’re hyenas alright? Effing hyenas.”
	“Angh ouwd,” gurgled Blunth.
	The law man raised an eyebrow. “Hyenas, eh?” He lifted a quill and began scratching at the page. “And what was that your friend said there?”
	“Fucked if I know.”
	“I see. And you two are...male? Female?”
	“What’s it fucking look like?”
	A few voices in the crowd started to titter. The law man raised a lopsided smile. “We don’t see many hyenas around here, so you can forgive us asking the question...do many male hyenas have...” He gestured with the quill searching for words. “Have such...large breasts, as you two do?”
	“Only the ones with big cocks.”
	The crowd laughed louder and the law man snapped his fingers for silence.
	“I will enter you down as gender unknown.”
	“We’re men!”
	The law man scratched at the page. “Gender...unknown. Now, this provides us with a predicament. The punishments we provide are different for men and for women. With you presenting such a...unique position in the middle, we find it unclear as to which to apply.”
	“Does that mean we go free?”
	“Of course not.”
	“Didn’t think so.” He caught Blunth’s frown and shrugged his shoulders. “Worth a try.”
	“For the crimes with which you have been sentenced-”
	“Wait a minute, don’t we get to defend ourselves?”
	“-the punishment, for a male is to be beheaded.”
	Hunter blinked. “You idiot! Can’t you see? We’re female, ain’t we? Look at the boobs. Female!” He pressed his chest outwards and swung from side to side, gathering admiring whoops and cackles from the crowd. He nudged Blunth and hissed at him, but he stood stubbornly still, glaring into the upturned faces.
	“In that case, the punishment for the crimes with which you have been sentenced, for a female is...” The law man turned the page. “Immolation.”
	“What’s that mean?”
	“We set you on fire!” cried a voice from the crowd, amidst cheers and jeers. The assembled noise was rising.
	“Yes, quite,” said the law man.
	Hunter pulled his chest back in and tried to hunch forwards. “We’re men! Listen to my voice. Man’s voice that is! Deep and manly.”
	“Igh ugh anna ee eggedded.”
	“Shush Blunth! Beheading’s better than burning to death!”
	“Ogg earry!”
	“Yes really, ya great oaf! If we’re gonna have to-”
	The law man cleared his throat with a hacking cough. His quill scratched across the page, and he didn’t even look up as he waved a paw towards the pair. From behind them, down in the crowd, emerged two heavyset figures who should not have been able to blend in as much as they had. They stood a clear foot taller than those around them. Their horned faces were strangely shaped inside their leather hoods, and their furless skin, where it showed bare on their forearms, looked thick and tough, able to parry off almost any sword blow.
	“Aw fuck! They’ve got rhinos,” said Hunter.
	The pair gripped Hunter and Blunth like they were made of twigs, closing thick and heavy fingers around their biceps. Their feet were nearly lifted from the ground as they were dragged across the wooden platform towards one end, where a raised plinth of hard, scarred timber stood above boards stained a deep maroon. In the top of the plinth, embedded deep into the wood, was an axe, thick and broad, with a handle longer than a man’s arm.
	“Fuck fuck fuck,” cried Hunter. “Listen, we can make a deal, can’t we? We only broke into a tomb. It’s not like we were robbing it! You can’t chop our ‘eds off for that! It’s not right!”
	The rhino gripped the back of his head and forced him down. The strength in those fingers pressed into his skull like a crushing vice. The other paw came down to yank the axe out of the wood like it was made of butter, and in its place went Hunter’s head, pressed cheek down against the wood. He could feel the memory of the blood soaked into it. His tongue tasted the bitter iron tang of death in the air. He started to whimper, and behind him he heard Blunth growling incoherently, and the sounds of struggling...which ended with a thud and a quiet whimper. The paw lifted from Hunter’s head, but a moment later a great booted foot came up to rest on his back. He wheezed breathlessly as it pressed down, crushing the air from his lungs and creaking his ribs.
	“Please...please! Mercy!”
	The axe swung up, carving through the air. The crowd hushed itself to absolute silence. Somewhere in the far distance came the sounds of birds singing, of cattle bleating, of carts rumbling over stony tracks. Blunth’s breathless whimpering came constant. Hunter squeezed his eyes shut, readying for the last moments before oblivion. The axe came down...
	And everything span, jolting around. The thud of wood against his forehead, then his cheek. Whirling and spinning. He opened his eyes to see the sky cartwheel above him, then the close slam of the platform’s wooden planks, all in a dizzying blur, until finally, with one last teetering topple, the world righted itself and came to a rest. He stared out across a plain of wooden planks, beyond which a sea of faces stared at him wide-eyed. A splash of blood lay in droplets on the wood in front of him, but only for a moment: before his eyes they dissolved away to crimson vapour, and then nothing at all. He blinked. He worked his mouth. His tongue brushed against his teeth. He blinked again, trying to place his thoughts in order.
	“Shouldn’t I be dead?”
	The screaming didn’t start instantly. When something so unexpected happens, there’s a short time lag for the situation to register in the mind, and for the mind to work out what to do. In the second or two of stunned silence that followed, a cow lowed, and a seagull squawked. And then, as one, the many minds collected together in the crowd came to their conclusions. And that’s when the screaming started. And the running. And the chaos and cacophony of blind panic. The crowd split apart like boiling steam, rushing in all directions and crashing into itself. There were cries of demons and witchcraft, of sorcery and devilment. A heavy thud accompanied the descent of one of the rhino’s, jumping down off the platform and charging through the crowd, pushing people aside like grass, head down, aiming for the safety that lay beyond the village’s streets. Another thump, as the second rhino did the same.
	“I should...I should be dead, ride?”
	A shadow dropped across him. A paw gripped his hair and yanked him upwards. He spun, the world lurching around him, until a great eclipse of fur filled his view and pressed against his face. He knew that fur. He knew the taste of it on the air that passed his tongue. And he knew that he would know the smell, were he still equipped with a nose to smell it.
	“Blunth! Get me off of your ass!”
	“Oo ungageguh aggarg!”
	He tried to twist his head away, but the tight grip on his fur held him there. He strained his eyes to look up: Blunth’s wrists were still bound, as his still were...
	“Wait a second...”
	He could feel the ropes still on his own wrists. And he could feel the wood pressed against his chest, and the wooden boards against his knees. And when he tried to wriggle his fingers, he felt them move.
	“Blunth! Turn around!”
	They rotated, spinning on the spot. But Hunter could see only the peripheral beyond Blunth’s rear.
	“My body! Turn me around damn it!”
	There he was, still laid over the plinth, with the axe blade buried an inch deep into the wood, right through his neck, right where his head should be. When he moved his fingers, he could see them twitch, right there on the supposedly dead body. The howls and cries of the fleeing crowd were barely audible now. The platform was empty. The law man was gone. The only sign of movement was a few scrambling figures off in the distance, diving into doorways and slamming doors shut.
	“Let’s get outta here!”
	“Ugh!”
	Hunter felt a wave of nausea as he moved to stand. The body in front of him lurched backwards, the headless neck ending in a raw and blood-wet stump, smoothly cut. He could see the glistening opening of his own throat. He could see the white of the bones in his spine. But it wasn’t the sight of the gore that made his gut twist. He had seen dismembered corpses before...although, admittedly, none of them were his own before. It was not what he saw that made him feel ill: it was the lurching disconnect between what his eyes told him and what his body felt. It still seemed like his body was in place where it rightfully should be, attached to his neck, below him. But his eyes told a different story, and his mind couldn’t match the two. So, he closed his eyes...and stood up.
	“Blunth...put my head back on. Please.”
	“Gangh each...”
	“Alright, pass me here then!”
	He felt the gut-twisting feeling again as Blunth awkwardly manoeuvred his head upwards. He dangled and thumped against Blunth’s wrists. He brought his own bound arms up behind his back, feeling around blindly, until he felt his fingers against his own face...it was easier to imagine it was someone else’s head. He gripped his muzzle, holding tight.
	“Okay, you can let go.”
	He opened his eyes. He saw Blunth move away and then turn to face him, eyes wide and disbelieving. He felt his own butt pressing against the back of his head. His fingers gripped tightly against his cheeks. If he closed his eyes, it felt like he was holding something in his paws behind his back, while someone else gripped his head in their paws. But when his eyes were open...
	...it was easier not to think about it. He tried to take a step, wobbled unsteadily, and nearly fell.
	“Fuck. We’ve gotta get outta here. But I can’t run like this. I’ll crash into the first wall we pass!”
	Blunth nodded, then walked around him, out of his view.
	“Blunth? What are you doing? Blunth?”
	He felt Blunth’s fingers...touching his sheath.
	“Blunth! What the hell?!”
	And then gripping! Blunth had hold of his cock and balls, gripped tightly in his big paws. He must have been standing in front of him, facing away, holding Hunter’s balls behind him with his bound paws. And then, with an ignored protesting wail from Hunter, he started to walk.
	“Blund! Sdop!”
	He was forced to walk. And then to run. He closed his eyes and just concentrated on moving, ignoring what his eyes told him, just relying on the feel of his feet pounding against the road, on the tugging on his cock that led the way like a leash. He howled curses at Blunth every step of the way, and fought to keep his grip on his own head with his paws bound behind his back.
	“Bluuuuuunth!”
	They raced out of the village, sweating and gasping, Hunter screaming whenever Blunth’s tugging became sharp agony with every trip and stumble. They ran for what seemed like hours, Hunter keeping his eyes squeezed shut the entire way. At every moment he expected spears and arrows to thud into his back. He concentrated on running. Just run and try not to fall. And try not to think about Blunth’s big thick paw gripping his jewels. Try not to think about what might happen if he did fall while Blunth was still holding them. Just run...
	Finally, when it seemed like his chest was about to explode, he felt the pressure of Blunth’s tugging ease, and he slowed his pace until he came to a stop. He felt the wet breeze on his fur, and heard the soothing rustle of trees around him. He opened his eyes. There was no sign of the village. Just the long path, winding away. He could still feel Blunth’s paws on his sheath.
	“You can let go now. Blunth?”
	He turned around, shuffling awkwardly, his view askew from being positioned the wrong way around, facing out from his own rear. Blunth rocked into view. Stunned, scared, panting...trembling Blunth.
	“What is it? What’s the matter?”
	Something was wrong. He could still feel Blunth’s paws on his sheath. But Blunth was standing in front of him, while his sheath was behind him.
	“Blunth?”
	Slowly, Blunth turned around. He uncurled his paws, his wrists still bound behind him. And there, held in his fingers, was Hunter’s sheath and balls...absolutely nowhere near the body that it belonged to.
	“Fuck...”

Rain began to pelt down as the night drew in, and the brothers staggered cold and shivering into the shelter of an old barn, leaning and decaying, close to collapse. The moon shone pale white light down through the broken roof, casting long shadows over discarded tools and broken stalls. Hunter dropped to his knees and fell forward into a pile of hay that was halfway to becoming sludge. His grip on his head loosened, and the world span as it rolled and settled into the hay.
	“That’s it,” said Hunter. “I can’t take any more. Gonna just lie here until I die. I don’t care what that guy said...I can’t be immortal. Just gonna lie here...close my eyes...and just rot away. Not a bleeding care in the world. Not gonna care about having my head cut off. Not gonna think about my nose not being there. Not gonna think about my fucking giblets in your damn paw! Just gonna lie here and wither way. I give up!”
	Blunth grunted. He made his way to the far end of the barn and pulled a rusted scythe down off the wall. Its blade was dull, but Blunth’s formidable strength overcame it: he had the ropes off in seconds. He stretched his arms wide and growled, happy triumph. And in his paw he held Hunter’s flopping manhood.
	“Easy with that!” Hunter tried to rock his head upright. “Whatever you do, don’t drop it!”
	“Geh!”
	“Don’t you ‘bleh’ me!”
	Blunth stopped over. He held Hunter’s cock and balls up high...
	“Don’t you dare!”
	...and dropped them into the hay. A soft landing, but not soft enough. Hunter shrieked, his body curling up into a ball, and his head rocking indignantly on its side on the ground beside it. Blunth knelt down and undid the thong binding Hunter’s wrists.
	“You bastard!” cried Hunter. He pushed himself up onto his knees and swung his fists, blindly flailing for Blunth. “You fucking bastard! I’ll get you!” He pushed his tongue against the floor and levered his head up, trying to shift it around to get a line of sight on his foe. Blunth stood still, grinning, just out of range of the flying punches. And then Hunter made a mistake: he shuffled forwards on his knees...and knelt right on his own balls...
	Blunth clapped his paws over his ears and retreated from the noise, laughing gutturally. Hunter’s body fell back again, clutching at its empty crotch. “Just kill me! Kill me now! Ugggh!”
	When he had calmed down, some while later, and after he had managed to retrieve his head and manhood, he sat cross-legged in the hay, inspecting himself. Blunth sat safely out of range of his arms, smiling smugly, working a stone along the blade of the scythe.
	“Weird,” said Hunter. He had his head held in his paws, lifted up in front of his neck, looking down at the stump. “It’s been sliced right off, d’you see? Clean off it has. Nice straight cut too. But look, no blood. Weird, right?”
	“Ugh,” said Blunth.
	“Not as weird as...well...all the rest of this, mind. But still pretty weird. I can see my spine bones, look! And all the meaty bits and the tubes and stuff. But no blood. Hmm, hold on a sec.”
	He shifted his head into one paw and, with the other, reached for his neck and stuck a finger down into the open hole of his throat.
	“Gugh! Okay, not gonna do that again. Fucking weird is what that was. Funny none of this hurts, though, huh?”
	“Ugh.”
	“Same down there,” he said, tilting his head to look down at his crotch. As with the neck, an oval wound of raw, red flesh showed where his cock and balls should be. And on the organs themselves, resting in the hay between his legs, the same raw flesh showed at the base. A fly crawled across the meat, then buzzed away.
	“So, umm...I guess if I just kinda put my head back on like this, maybe...” He lifted his head up and turned it around to face the right way. The two halves of his neck came together with a wet squelch. Blunth, watching, grimaced. “And maybe it’ll just, kinda...fix itself?”
	Hesitantly, he lifted his paws away from his cheeks. He darted his eyes about, waiting for something to happen. His head was back in its right place, and he could see properly from the right vantage point. His body felt right again, positioned beneath him, where it should be.
	“And I’m back together. Tada!”
	And with that, his head rolled forwards and toppled off his neck, landing heavily on his balls...
	Hunter’s shrieks went on for a while. Blunth whistled tunelessly, idly scraping sparks off the blade of the scythe.
	“Damn everything!”
	Hunter snatched up his cock and shook it at Blunth, who put a paw over his mouth to mask a giggle.
	“It’s not funny! What am I gonna do about this? About this?” He pointed down at his head, propped up in his lap. “About all of this? I can’t go walking about in pieces can I?! Damn it, Blunth, use that mush you got in that thick skull of yours for once, will ya?”
	Blunth set the scythe down and stood up. His heavy feet stomped on the dirty floor towards Hunter. His thick cock, just a little bigger than Hunter’s, swung with his steps. His naked chest, breasts exposed, rose with deep breaths. His paws were in fists, and his eyes were narrow and sharp.
	“Blunth...don’t be angry. You know I didn’t mean it. Don’t do anything...Blunth!”
	He strode right past Hunter, slamming his palm against the barn’s door and swinging it outwards, rust puffing from the rattling hinges. The night’s cold air gusted in as Blunth disappeared out into the darkness.
	“Damn it Blunth! You can’t just go storming off in a huff like that! Blunth, get back here!”
	Hunter struggled to his feet, carrying his head in one paw and his cock in the other. He lurched towards the door, muttering curses. As he reached for the door’s edge with his foot, Blunth’s shadow loomed out of the darkness.
	“Fuck! You gave me a heart attack. Hey, what are you...”
	Blunth’s paw came to rest on his chest, pushing him back into the barn. He grinned widely, his teeth showed in the moonlight. In his other paw he carried a mound of manure, heaped high in his palm, steaming in the cold air.
	“What...is that shit?! Wait, where did you get tha...no way. Blunth, I’m sorry I yelled at you. Blunth!” He shrieked as Blunth’s paw came up, and he twisted away from him. But Blunth’s empty paw grabbed his arm, holding him in place. The paw came down with a heavy splat on the stump of Hunter’s neck, pancaking the manure against the naked flesh.
	“Blunth!” cried Hunter. “What do you think you’re...”
	With slow, calm movements, Blunth reached down to grab Hunter’s head in both paws, smearing manure into his cheek fur. He lifted it up and, carefully, aligned it with his neck and pressed it down into the manure. Hunter felt it squishing out and dribble down his neck. He felt still more of it ooze into his throat, and he coughed to bring up a disgusting mouthful.
	“Ugh!” He spat. “Blunth! What the hell?”
	Blunth stepped back, his arms folded and his eyebrow raised. It took a moment for Hunter to realise: his head was back in its rightful place on top of his neck, and it was staying in place.
	“You used your shit as glue?!”
	Blunth nodded, grinning.
	“You fucking disgusting...ugh.” He tilted his head, carefully, his paws out ready to catch it. “Well...it works, I guess. At least I can’t smell it.” He reached for his muzzle, instinctively feeling over the bare fur patch where his nose should be. “Can taste it in the air, though. Ugh! Fucking...”
	He sighed and dropped his arms down to his sides. He shrugged, then smiled weakly. “I guess I should say thank you.”
	“Ergh enghung igh.”
	Hunter lifted up his cock and balls, limp and delicate in his paw. He looked at Blunth, who raised an eyebrow. Hunter shook his head and backed away.
	“Oh no. You’re not sticking this on with shit. It can wait. I’ll just hold onto it for now, okay?”
	Blunth shrugged.
	“So...umm.” Hunter felt his fingers along the sealed join of his neck. He grimaced at the slimy feeling and wiped his fingers clean on his thigh. “What do we do now?”
	Blunth grinned wider, a demonic happiness in his eyes. He hefted the newly-sharpened scythe, jerked his head towards the blade, then pointed out of the open doorway, off in the direction of the distant town. Hunter’s own grin grew to match.
	“Oh yes...I understand that alright.” He lifted up his manhood, waving it. “But what do I do with this?”
	Blunth set down the scythe, looked thoughtful for a moment, which on his face meant a look of intense painful discomfort. Then, with his grin returned, he bent down and scooped up the discarded leather thong from the floor.
	“Perfect!”

The stories of the Brothers Who Would Be Kings tended not to mention the sack of Carridge. Those who spoke of their experiences were ridiculed for their outlandish tales. None would believe that two men could slaughter the entire leadership of the town, cutting through guardsmen, shrugging off sword blows and arrow strikes alike. Who would believe it? The smaller brother, wearing his manhood like a talisman on a string around his neck? The larger brother flailing a scythe in wide, bloody arcs, screaming in inarticulate rage, laughing as his arm was hacked off with an axe, picking it up and beating three more guardsmen to death with it? The final confrontation with the Deacon, who fainted dead away at the sight of the bloodied, dismembered pair, walking corpses carrying their severed limbs in looted sacks, peppered like hedgehogs with arrows, wielding stolen swords and pointing the dripping blades at the fat, pampered leader?
	All stuff of fiction, surely.
	There must be a normal and boring story behind how the brothers came to rule the town of Carridge, people said. Probably some sneaky underhanded politics. Or an assassination. Or just plain old bribery or nepotism. All the usual ways that power transfers from one to the next.
	Of course...there was the question that none were brave enough to ask outside of whispered circles: why one King had no nose, and the other had no tongue...
	Nor did anyone have a satisfactory answer why the brothers were capable of ruling for so many long years. Nor why their frequent campaigns of expansion, always with the brothers standing forefront on the battle lines, never seemed to lead to their deaths, despite horrific and frequent injury. Nor could anyone explain the increasing isolation of their monarchs, secluded away inside their castle keep, rarely seen...but often smelled.
	After several decades...most stopped asking the questions at all.

The Endless Castle stood where Carridge once was. Its high stone walls had taken six years to raise, and the grand keep within twice as long. When not on campaign, the Kings held court in the high hall, flanked by fragrant plants sprouting from tall copper vases. Each night, they retired to the private rooms where even servants were not permitted to enter. As the bolts slid home in the thick door, it cut off the outside world and left only the brothers, together.
	“I noticed you were having some trouble with your leg again,” said Hunter as he unwound the bandages from his left arm.
	“It itches like fuck,” said Blunth, carefully forming his words, shaped by the articulated tongue made of gold, fixed to his back teeth. “It’s that new ointment. ”
	“Let me take a look.” Hunter lay the bandages down and unstuck his paw from his wrist. He hissed sharply as he dropped into the bowl of hot mineral oil. Under the liquid’s surface his fingers wiggled, clouding the oil with brown fragments: bits of dirt, fragments of rotting flesh, decayed skin and fur. “Come on, set it up here,” he said, patting the bench, shuffling aside rolls of bandages and bottles of oils and ointments.
	“Think it might be time to swap it?” said Blunth.
	“Not sure. Don’t forget to peg your nose.”
	“Oh yeah.”
	The stench rolled out from the ointment-soaked bandages. Like a pork joint that had been left in sunlight for a week. Like the worst maggot-infested effluent in an overflowing cess pool. It made Hunter’s eyes water, and even without a nose he fought to keep his exquisite dinner from rising up. The smell was like soup in the air: it invaded past his closed lips and stung his tongue, tickling at his throat, bringing up the threat of bile.
	“Up here. Quickly.”
	Blunth’s lower leg came apart at a ragged join across the shin, where sixteen years ago an enemy horseman had ripped through it with a long, heavy sabre, just before Blunth’s iron club had bludgeoned him into meaty bits. And like the other severed parts the brothers had accumulated over the years, it had continued to function just as well as it ever had, except for its annoying inability to be reattached. They had invented, and then perfected, the art of body rebuilding, holding themselves together with various cunning assemblages of straps and tightly-wound bandages. Sometimes a more sturdy connection was required, like the thick brass staples that stitched Hunter’s neck together, or the iron rods that knitted Blunth’s shattered right shoulder into one piece. But all this could not fight off the source of the stink: the rot that blighted and blackened every body part that lost its connection to the head.
	Hunter clicked his teeth as he inspected Blunth’s foot. It was in by far the worst condition out of all of Blunth’s limbs. The fur was gone entirely: that hadn’t lasted past the seventh year. Then the flesh below had rotted, sloughing away in festering chunks as the years passed on. What remained was a hard core of dried out sinew and bone, black as charcoal and almost as brittle. Without the bandages to hold it together the ankle was incapable of bending without falling apart. Only two toes remained, the largest and the smallest, the rest having fallen off into boots during various campaigns, subsequently lost in the chaos of battles. Even now, Blunth would claim to feel them every now and then, in the cold earth of some distant field, nibbled on by insects, slimed by passing worms.
	“We could try a different ointment,” said Hunter. “I’m sure we can soften this up. Maybe with greynettles?”
	“Not if that’s gonna itch too. Distracting, is what it is.”
	“Yeah yeah, I know. If you want a replacement, I can see about sorting you out with a carved one for now, ‘til I can get a proper one built.” Hunter slid over another bowl of hot oil and carefully submerged Blunth’s foot into it. The big guy didn’t even flinch. Hunter accomplished this with a paw gloved in fine black leather. Nobody outside of that room knew that the paw beneath it was made of wood and iron, strung together with steel cables fastened with rings to the tendons in what remained of his wrist. The various decayed fragments that had once been his real paw now resided in a clay jar up on a shelf on the far wall, resting comfortably in body temperature mineral oil.
	Blunth sniffed. The peg held his nose tightly shut against the stench in the room, but some inevitably seeped in. “Get it done before I go fuck the Garbenites?”
	“Maybe. Doubt it.”
	“Bleh.”
	Hunter rolled his eyes. He went back to peeling away his bandages. Blunth instinctively hopped backwards, rechecking the fit of the peg on his nose. Piece by piece, Hunter came apart, setting his various rotting chunks into the bowls of hot oil on the bench. He perched himself on a specially-designed wheeled stool to remove his left leg and his right foot.
	“Little help?” he said, shooting a glare to Blunth.
	“Oh right, sorry.”
	Blunth helped his brother finish peeling away the bandages from his remaining arm, separating it from the straps and buckles that held it in place. He lay it down in the largest of the bowls. If the replacement paw was ignored, that arm was the largest remaining contiguous part remaining of Hunter: everything disconnected from the head rotted away, and Hunter had been beheaded early on.
	“Wanna take the plates off today?” said Blunth.
	“No, I think it’s alright.” Hunter took a deep breath, looking down to check over himself. The brass plates covered his flat, breast-free chest, and his back, connected together by long bolts that burrowed all the way through his body. They held his ribcage together, keeping it from spilling apart in torn fragments, courtesy of the crushing blow of a claymore eight years ago. More plates ran in articulated layers down his stomach, bolted into his pelvis, framing the empty space, capped with a gold plate, where his manhood should be: that too was in a jar up on the shelf.
	“No maggots today?” said Blunth.
	“Don’t think so. No itching neither. Been lucky this summer.”
	“Luck’s on your side, eh?”
	“Guess so.”
	Blunth was a masterpiece by comparison. His neck had only ever suffered glancing blows, and his torso remained clean and unblemished. His breasts were intact, as was his manhood. Only his limbs showed real damage, where swords and axes had done their brutal work in countless battles: here the most inventive assemblage of straps and bandages held him together, keeping him capable and strong, keeping him King. These arms now lifted Hunter up from his stool, cradling him like a baby. Hunter laid his head against Blunth’s shoulder, closing his eyes, as Blunth hopped and shuffled into the next room, where the grand bed of the monarchs awaited.
	“Didn’t visit the women’s hall today,” said Blunth conversationally.
	“Oh.”
	Blunth laid Hunter down on the soft silks. Their size difference was never quite as apparent as it was in these moments, when Hunter lay limbless and helpless in the presence of his brother. Hunter knew the look on Blunth’s face, and it sent the blood burning into his cheeks and ears. He nibbled his lip and looked away to the side, suddenly interested in the stone wall.
	“Gonna help me out, brother?” said Blunth.
	“Again?”
	“Got an itch to scratch, ain’t I?”
	“Not my effing fault you ain’t smart enough to go see the women when you’ve got the horn, ya fat oaf.”
	The bed creaked as Blunth lifted his knees up onto it. He knelt straddling Hunter’s rebuilt torso. His grin looked down over the curve of his chest, and the thickness of his great, fat cock, raised in eager erection.
	“Not fair you do this, you know,” said Hunter. “Taking advantage is what it is. If I had my arms and legs on...”
	“You’d let me do it anyway,” said Blunth, smirking. His paw came down to stroke at Hunter’s cheek, his thumb crudely inserting itself into the corner of Hunter’s mouth, rubbing against his teeth.
	“Try it some time. I’ll smash your fucking head in.”
	“Bleh.”
	“Stop fucking saying ‘bleh’! Don’t know why I put up with you, you great heap of mmph!”
	Blunth’s thumb pressed between Hunter’s teeth, prising his jaws apart. Hunter shot death from his eyes, and wriggled as much as his stunted body would allow. But Blunth’s paw was too strong, and the stabbing bite of Hunter’s teeth could do nothing to stop the foul-tasting, blackened and furless thumb from stretching his muzzle wide open. The blush got hotter, and up in a jar on the shelf in the next room, what remained of his cock swelled up and rose the level of the oil by a half inch. Hunter exhaled a groan and closed his eyes.
	“Igh noth fair,” he grunted. Instinctively, he rocked his hips, clanking his stomach plating. The oil in the jar offered no friction, no relief. And in the past, ill-fated attempts to stroke his cock had just led to disintegration, and its current useless state. He would just have to put up with it, while his brother loomed over him, cock hard and healthy. “Noth fair!”
	“Sorry brother,” said Blunth. “Just luck, ain’t it?”
	Hunter growled, silenced only as Blunth’s thick cockhead slid between his tip to rub against his tongue. The growl became the mewl of a kitten, a sound that no-one else would ever hear. Blunth slid his thumb back out of his brother’s mouth and moved his paw to stroke at his cheek, as he leaned forward to sink his cock all the way down into Hunter’s mouth, until it filled his throat, until Hunter’s head was pinned down into the soft bedding, until he gagged and croaked breathlessly, wriggling his limbless body, fighting for air.
	“Nice sound,” said Blunth, starting to rock his hips. Hunter clenched his eyes shut. With each thrust came a chance to snatch some air. And for once, the ever-present taste of rotting flesh wasn’t there. Instead, the sweet musk of his brother’s leaking cock, and the sweat from his fur. His whimpering protests died away, replaced by a more mellow grumble, broken by the wet slap of flesh against flesh, as Blunth pounded away into his willing throat, as his own cock throbbed and ached in the jar on the shelf.
	They slept, as ever, cuddled together in the warm bed, wrapped in silk, Blunth’s arms tight around his brother, the taste of his fresh seed still on Hunter’s breath, the smell of sex mingling with the stink of death in the air.

 “Blunth...wake up. Blunth!”
	“Mrrgh?”
	“Damn it, wake up! Wake up you dozy lump or I’ll fucking headbutt you.”
	“Brlggh.”
	Bone cracked against bone. Blunth jolted awake, snorting loudly, his drool painting the pillow under his head.
	“Ugh...what you do that for?”
	“It’s happening again.”
	“Which one?”
	“The left.” A shudder rippled through Hunter’s body. He let out a feeble yelp. “It’s the pins again!”
	“Ugh, not the pins,” said Blunth. He wrapped his arms tighter around Hunter, holding him close as he whimpered.
	It had happened during the battle for Pythia’s second city, on a cold and muddy field to the city’s south, pinned between the city’s walls and the storm-drenched shore of that country’s southern coast. The day had been going well. The Pythian’s line had collapsed, and they had fallen back to the city. Though they jeered from their walls, their time was running short, and they knew it. The siege works were being built, and the walls were weak. It was only a matter of time.
	The assailant had come in the dead hours of the night, slipping past the picquet line and weaving through the camp in a uniform stolen from a murdered scout. He slipped past the Kings’ guard, carrying two armfuls of fragrant leaves and a purposeful air. He entered the Kings’ tent. And there, above the sleeping pair, he stood, blade raised.
	It could have been death. It should have been death. Had they been mortal, and had the attacker intended death, it would have been. But the attacker did not have murder in mind. And the blade had flipped sideways to slash across Hunter’s chest. He woke with a scream, writhing away from Blunth, who leapt up, sword in his paw, slashing at empty darkness. The assailant had fled, and with him had gone Hunter’s breasts, severed cleanly and taken away in an instant. The camp roused to blaring horns. The army searched. But the assailant was gone, and with him Hunter’s breasts, still very much alive and linked to his body.
	And every now and then he felt them, being fondled, being moved, being washed and submerged, played with by the thief who now owned them. And on bad nights, the needles pricked, or the flames singed, or the acid burned. And Hunter could only writhe and cry and bury his face in his brother’s shoulder.
	“We gotta go see him,” grunted Blunth.
	“No, we can’t!”
	“We gotta! And we’re fucking gonna.”
	“We shouldn’t...”
	Blunth growled, and it silenced Hunter. And for the rest of the night they laid together, awake, pressed close together, until the needles stopped their torture, until the light of dawn tinged the windows.

The ageless tunnel was as it always was, unchanged as if the passing years were only moments. The cold air sucked the warmth from their bodies, and even the crackling flames of the torches held high by their flanking guardsmen could not keep the Kings from feeling the chill omen of the darkness in front of them.
	Hunter glanced at his brother, who nodded, grimfaced. Hunter sighed. “Well, alright. Onwards then, I guess.”
	The guardsmen went ahead, their swords up, torches held high. The darkness retreated from the glow of the flames, and the brothers walked in the centre of their knot of defenders, slowly moving down the long tunnel.
	“You gonna do the talking, Blunth? Seeing as this is your idea?”
	“Guess so.”
	“What’re you gonna say to him?”
	“Dunno yet. Get ya boobs back I guess.”
	“That’s if he’s even here. Agh...” Hunter held a paw out to grip Blunth’s arm, stopping. Around them the guardsmen halted.
	“What’s the matter?”
	Hunter hissed through his teeth and pulled himself up to whisper in Blunth’s ear, lifting one boot up off the ground. “Fucking foot’s fallen off, ain’t it. Flopping around like a dead fish in me fucking boot.”
	“We strapped it good and proper.”
	“Not proper enough! Wait a sec, I think I might...”
	With a grunt, Hunter stomped down. The bones in his ankles crunched together inside the boot. He twisted his heel against the stone. “Almost got it...”
	“You’re gonna ruin it.”
	“It’s already fucking ruined, ain’t it? Gonna have to rebuild the whole thing when we get back home.”
	“You walk okay?”
	“Dunno. Maybe.” He took a tentative step. His ankle collapsed under him, and only the leather of the boot kept the foot from falling off completely. Blunth snapped out a paw to catch him. “Guess not.”
	“Right, come on. Up you go.”
	“Don’t you fucking dare! Blunth! Don’t you-”
	Blunth bent down and scooped Hunter up, cradling him in his arms like a maiden being rescued.
	“Blunth you fucker! Put me down!” He punched his false paw against Blunth’s chest. It was like hitting rock. “The men will see.”
	“They don’t care. Do ya?”
	“No sir!” grunted the group.
	Hunter growled. “Fucking bastards the lot of you! Fine...on we go then. And don’t you dare drop me, Blunth. I’ll stick your head in a stew if you do.”
	“Bleh.”
	The tunnel wounds its way down into the dark of the mountain, off towards the distant tombs. It seemed to run forever. The dust churned on the stones beneath their feet.
	“Wakey wakey,” called Blunth. “Stinky fucker, come on out.”
	“Shuddup, will yah?”
	“You wanna find him or not?”
	“No, I don’t want to find him, do I?” Hunter jabbed Blunth’s chest with a finger. “You wanna find him, not me. Just because you can’t...uh.” He looked around at the guardsmen.
	“Can’t stand you screaming like a girl at night when your breasts get-”
	“Shuddup!”
	“’sides, don’t we wanna get...you know, fixed?”
	“Keep it down, alright?” Hunter looked at each guardsman, but they all had their eyes forwards, their noses plugged, and their ears capped by their helmets. None were paying any notice to the private conversation of their kings. “Let’s just get in and out and be done with it, okay? He’s probably not here anyway. Long since gone to dust I bet. Rotted away like we’re rotting now! Fucker knew all about it, didn’t he? Tricked us...”
	“Uhuh,” grunted Blunth.
	“Made me into a living corpse, is what he did. Alright for you, ain’t it? You’re still mostly proper. You ain’t got a stinky hole and a big ol’ metal plate where your giblets should be! You still get to stick it in the women and stick it in me!”
	“Uhuh.”
	“That all you got to say? Fuck it. You fat lump. You bastard hunk of knobcheese. And what if he is down here? Ain’t gonna turn out good is it? He already got my nose adn your tongue last time. What’s he gonna take this time? Maybe he’ll take your tadger and you’ll know what it’s like to be me. That’ll be fair, don’t you think?”
	“My foot itches.”
	“You’re a fount of wisdom aren’t ya Blunth? Fucking hell. Just put me down. I’ll hop along. I don’t need to be carried like a child!”
	Blunth trudged onwards, accompanied by the clinking armour and weapons of the guardsmen around him. He did not put Hunter down.
	“Gah, you bastard.” Hunter folded his arms across his chest and curled in against Blunth’s chest. His voice dropped to a mutter. “Gonna cut bits off you and feed them to you. Make you munch on your balls. Serve you right...”
	The cracks started in the edges of the tunnel, skittering out from the corners, slicing gaps down between the stones. Ancient mortar puffed up as white dust. The floor dropped two inches in a sudden lurch.
	“What was that?” said Hunter.
	Blunth looked down. The stones around his feet groaned. Around them, the guardsmen crept backwards, away from them. “I think the-”
	The floor beneath them collapsed like falling sand. The guardsmen shrieked and dived out of the way. Hunter and Blunth fell in screaming, twisting weightlessness, tumbling through air that heaved with falling rock. The blackness swallowed them. Air rushed through their teeth. Limbs spun and flailed, gripping uselessly at the jagged natural rock walls. Their screaming smashed to silence as they slammed into a sloped outcrop, then spun end over end into the void, splintering limbs and shedding fragments into the torrent of falling rock. The flickering flame of a falling torch spun into view, casting a circle of flat stone that was growing larger with each revolution. It lit a wide, stone floor, flat and very hard-looking. Stone boulders crashed into it, splintering into broken shrapnel. The brothers hurtled towards it, one last scream splitting the air.
	They landed as a rain of body parts. Fingers and legs and torsos crunched and bounced, rolling amongst the broken stones and settling in piles. Bandages split open and spilled their contained fragments. Dust blew up in clouds, some of it rock, some of it desiccated body parts. Hunter’s head cracked muzzle-first into the stone. Teeth sprayed in a fountain upwards and outwards, clattering on the stone. Blunth’s body, stripped of its limbs, crashed heavily beside him, exploding into pieces, blood spraying in droplets that dissolved to dust in mid-air. The falling torch clattered end over end and came to a rest jutting up between two boulders. Its flame ebbed, and then died, leaving them in inky black darkness. And then, for a while, everything was silent and still.
	Hunter groaned. “Ow...”
	Blunth wheezed a wordless reply, little more than a breath.
	“Everything hurts,” said Hunter.
	“Ugh...”
	“I’ve fallen apart, Blunth. All my bits are everywhere.” Hunter’s head was propped at a lopsided angle up against a shattered boulder. He probed his tongue through his mouth, feeling the empty sockets in his jaw, feeling the disconcerting looseness of his muzzle. “My teeth have all fallen out. My muzzle’s broke!”
	Their various body parts twitched and wriggled. Fingers lifted weakly, squirming like worms. Parts of Blunth’s torso, freshly broken apart, writhed wet and glistening as disconnected muscles tried to move, squelching across coiled and splattered organs. Mixed amongst them were the remains of Hunter’s body, heaps of dusty sinew and shattered bones, draped with ripped bandages and split leather straps.
	“Shit,” said Blunth, with a guttural clatter of his golden tongue against his teeth.
	“Eloquent as fucking always, Blunth! Where are you anyway?”
	“Under stuff.”
	“Real helpful!”
	“Think it’s your arse.”
	“Don’t think it’s mine. Can’t feel ya. Can you move anything?”
	“Yeah.”
	Hunter waited.
	“Well?”
	“Well what?”
	“Move yourself then! We gotta get ourselves sorted out!”
	“I can move,” said Blunth. And all around bits of him wriggled and writhed. “Can’t do anything, though.”
	Hunter groaned. When he moved, the same result occurred: a heaving pile of squirming body parts, each one struggling independently and uselessly. “Yeah, me too. What are we gonna do? Can’t just lie here in a fucking heap! We gotta get ourselves put back together! There’s enough straps and bandages and stuff. We just gotta use our heads!”
	“Our guardsmen can help when they find us.”
	“Oh that’s a real smart idea, that. Then what happens? They drag us off in a fucking wheelbarrow and burn us up in a bonfire as ghouls? Yeah, no, we’re not doing that! We’re gonna stay quiet and get ourselves put together before they show up! Otherwise we’re fucking done, alright? Done! I dunno if our immortality is gonna fucking stretch to being burned up to dust. I dunno about you, but I don’t wanna be floating around as dust for the rest of forever!”
	“Sounds relaxing.”
	“No it doesn’t sound fucking relaxing! Now, would you hurry up and wriggle...I think I feel a bit of you against one of my fingers. If I can get a grip on it I should be able to start moving it across to...hang on. Do you hear that?”
	“Hear what?”
	“Shh! Just listen!”
	“Can’t hear nuffin.”
	“Shut up Blunth!”
	They strained their ears. In the black silence there was a scraping, rumbling noise, like the distant heartbeat of the world. It grew louder, accompanied by the distant shout of voices.
	“It’s our guardsmen,” cried Hunter. “They’re coming to find us.”
	“Yay!”
	“Not yay! Very not yay! They’re gonna burn us! Blunth, I don’t wanna get burned!”
	“Don’t sound like they’re coming to find us.”
	“What do you mean?”
	“Sounds like they’re rolling a rock or something.”
	“Why would they be rolling...oh no.”
	“What?”
	“The big rock at the entrance! The tunnel block, remember? The one that’s meant to keep him in! The one we got them to roll out of the way so we could get in. They’re rolling it back! They’re sealing us in, Blunth! The bastards! The fucking bastards! Traitors!”
	“Huh.”
	“We’re fucked, Blunth! Stuck all smashed up in some bloody collapsed tomb! Buried alive under a mountain! It’s hopeless! What are we gonna do, Blunth? What the bloody fucking hell are we gonna do?”
	“Better than being burned alive, I suppose.”
	“No it bloody isn’t!” In the distance, the grinding sound stopped, as did the sound of voices. Silence closed in, thick and impenetrable. “Well...a bit better, I guess. Still stuck here all in bits though!”
	“Yeah. But there’s some good news.”
	“What good news? Have you figured out a way to fix us?”
	“Nah.” Blunth started to chuckle. “But I figured out which bit of me you’re touching with your finger. You’re rubbing my dick!”
	Hunter groaned. “Well, don’t get any ideas! We’re busy!”
	“Why ya still rubbing it then?”
	“Because I don’t know which damn finger it is! I’m moving them all! Look, can you feel any other bits of me moving?”
	“Just your arse on my face.”
	“I’ll fucking shit on you if you’re not careful! Look...ugh...just, I can feel something move against my thumb. Which bit of you is it? Maybe I can get a hold of it and...”
	“Ooh! That’s nice.”
	“That...was your dick, wasn’t it?”
	“Yeah!”
	“Damn it, Blunth! Okay, what about...”
	“Uh, Hunter?”
	“Yeah?”
	“I smell something.”
	“Well I ain’t farted! So don’t go blaming me for that. Not my fault your face is under my arse.”
	“No, not that. It’s...ugh. It stinks worse than your rotten nadgers.”
	“I don’t smell anything.”
	“Of course you don’t. You ain’t got no nose.”
	“Well yeah, but...oh. Ugh! Yeah, I can taste it now! Oh fuck. Blunth! It’s him, ain’t it! It’s his stink! I forgot how bad it was! Quick, we gotta get ourselves back together and out of here before he shows up!”
	“No way. It’s him we came to see, ain’t it? He’s gonna help us get your boobs back.”
	“Forget about my fucking boobs! I don’t want him finding us like this!”
	“He might be able to help put us back together.”
	“Or he might collect us all up and keep us! He took my nose and your tongue, didn’t he! He might want the other bits of us!”
	“Nah.”
	“Not nah! Yeah! Yeah he might wanna do that!”
	“Hey, mister stinky fucker! We’re over here!”
	“Shut up Blunth! Just you shut...ugh. The air tastes awful. How can you stand smelling it?”
	“Used to it. Have to smell you all the time, don’t I?”
	“This is worse!”
	“A little worse, I guess. Hey! Stinky fucker! This way!”
	“Shut up shut up! If you don’t shut up I’ll stick my claw in your dick and twist it!”
	“We gotta get him to help us. We ain’t gonna manage it without him. Stinky fucker! Where are-ow!”
	“Stop calling for him! Just listen to me for once, Blunth! This was a bad idea from the start, and we’re screwed now, and we’re gonna be a whole lot more screwed if he turns up, ain’t we? We don’t know what he’s gonna do and oh fuck I can see a light...I can see a light Blunth! Someone’s got a torch. Someone’s got a torch and it’s coming this way. Oh fuck! Blunth, it’s him! He’s coming!”
	“Yeah! This way, stinky fucker! We’re over here!”
	“Oh fuck oh fuck...”
	The torch grew as it approached, framing the slumped, shuffling figure against the rock walls. Long, high shadows lanced up the sides of the cavern. The smell roared in Blunth’s nostrils and Hunter’s mouth, and their eyes watered. The stranger stood above them, like a skeleton wreathed in dusty sack cloth. Only his nose and the tongue that danced in his broken, fragmented jaw showed any kind of life, glistening in the torchlight. He looked down with one milky eye, staring at the chaos of shattered body parts. Gently, he prodded at the mangled contraption that used to be Hunter’s false paw.
	“Gentlemen.” The voice rasped dry and empty. “I did not expect to see you two again. How are you enjoying your long and fruitful lives?”
	“You...” Hunter groaned, fighting the sickening urge to vomit. The stench hung thick in every mouthful of air. It burned his tongue, tasting like rancid meat. “You tricked us. Look what you turned us into!”
	“Oh no,” said the stranger. “No tricks. Nothing like that. A fair trade. I gave you life eternal. I did not turn you into what you are now. You did that.”
	“You turned us into ruins!”
	“Is that what you think?” The stranger’s laugh shook dust from his body. He set the torch down, jamming the base of the staff into a gap between two fallen boulders.
	Blunth coughed. He slid his disjointed and damaged golden tongue out to push at Hunter’s rear, prising his head away to gain some space. “We came here for your help.”
	“My help? You need help?”
	“No,” growled Hunter. “No help! We don’t want your help! Just go away, okay?”
	“My brother had a part of him stolen,” said Blunth. “A long time ago. We wanted to know if you could help us get it back.”
	“No we didn’t! And no we don’t! Blunth, shut up!”
	The stranger crouched down, leaning on one knee. The bandages that held him together creaked with the movement. When he moved his head, the exposed sinews in his neck shifted, and the desiccated remains of his arteries twitched and quivered. “It looks like you’ve lost more than one part.”
	“Lost some bits, yeah. Got ‘em in jars back home.”
	“Stop telling him stuff, Blunth! He don’t need to know that stuff!”
	“Got his cock on a shelf. Fell to bits is what it did.”
	“Blunth!”
	The stranger laughed, croaking dryly. “I see, I see. And this part that got stolen?”
	“His boobs.”
	“Blunth, I swear...if you don’t shut up right now I’m gonna rip out your eyes and stuff them up your arsehole!”
	The stranger’s dry laugh turned into hacking coughs. Flakes of dried out fur and skin drifted down from his face. “I see. And what do you hope for me to do about it?”
	“Get it back for him?”
	“How do you expect me to do that?”
	“I dunno. Magic or something.”
	“Magic?”
	“Like how you made us live forever.”
	“Is that so?”
	Hunter groaned. “Fuck sake! He’s not gonna help us, Blunth.”
	“I’ll help you,” said the stranger. “In the ways that I am able.”
	“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Hunter.
	“It means wait here.” The stranger stood up, bones crackling. “I will be back soon.”
	“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”
	The stranger shuffled away, shifting into the shadows. He left the torch standing, casting its light across the brothers. The stench began to ebb away.
	“Told you it was a bad idea,” grumbled Hunter.
	“Least we can see now.”
	“Why the fuck is your cock hard, Blunth!”
	“Because you keep poking it with your thumb.”
	“That’s no good reason to go and get a fucking chubby! I’ll jab it again with my claw!”
	“Can’t help it.” Blunth sniffed, getting a nose full of Hunter’s stink. It didn’t burn quite as badly as the stranger’s. “I can’t see bugger all with your arse on my face. How bad are we?”
	“Bad. All fucking broken up and scattered about. I can’t even tell what some of the bits are. And I ain’t got enough of one paw in one peice to grab anything. You got a working paw?”
	“Yeah,” said Blunth. “But I think it’s stuck under a rock. Can you see it?”
	“Fuck. Yeah, I see it. Squished under a big bugger of a rock. Don’t that hurt?”
	“Nah. Feels weird though. Don’t think it’s gonna be much good once we get it out.”
	“Well, we’re screwed.”
	“Stinky fucker says he’s gonna help.”
	“He’s buggered off is what he’s done! And I don’t much trust him to come back. And I trust him even less to help us if he does! Come on, Blunth, we gotta help ourselves. What about moving with our mouths? I think I might be able to rock my head a bit, and then I can push with my tongue against this rock. And maybe I can get my way over to that bit over there...I think it’s a bit of your arm. Hey, Blunth, twitch your arm for me.”
	“Alright. There.”
	“Not your arm, then. I’ll try and wriggle over. Tell me what bit you feel me touching.”
	“Hey Hunter...the smell’s coming back.”
	“Oh great.”
	“He’s gonna come help us.”
	“No he fucking ain’t!”
	“Yes he fucking is!”
	The stranger hefted a large, bulging sack. He dropped it heavily onto the floor, spilling dust.
	“What you got there, stinky fucker?” said Blunth.
	“Your help.” From the sack, the stranger started to unravel long dusty bandages, wrapping them around his forearm. “And some spare parts.”
	“Huh?”
	“You’ll see.”
	The stranger cleared a spot in the middle of their scattered body parts, then sat down cross-legged. The stench blasted like a furnace in Blunth’s nose and Hunter’s mouth, and they began moaning helplessly. But the stranger ignored them: with no particular rush, he plucked a wet and slippery fragment of Blunth’s shoulder from the pile and began to wrap it in bandages.
	“Nnngh...that feels weird,” said Blunth.
	“Does it?” said the stranger.
	“Not used to getting my inside bits wrapped. Usually just the outside.”
	“You’ll get used to it.”
	“Hey, wait a second,” cried Hunter as the stranger plucked up a dryer, more decayed hunk of flesh and started to bind it to the first with the bandages. “That’s a bit of me! What are you doing?”
	“Putting you back together.”
	“But you’re mixing a bit of me with a bit of him!”
	“Does it matter?”
	“Yes!”
	“Hmm. No, I think you’re wrong. It doesn’t matter. Now let me concentrate.”
	“Like fuck! Don’t you go mixing us up together! That’s just messed up!”
	The stranger ignored him. And he ignored the continued barrage of complaints from Hunter. Time stretched on, and the lumps of bandaged-wrapped body parts grew. The limbs were simple enough: it was possible to see where the joints should be, and which bones connected to which. And even if an assembled leg ended up with a mix of Hunter’s flesh and Blunth’s bones, it didn’t matter. In the end, it would hold together, and it had the right shape.
	Everything else, though, that was more difficult. Each shredded fragment could be from anywhere. Was it part of a thigh muscle or a chest muscle? As the stranger prodded and shifted each part into place, one or other of the brothers would yelp and shiver, but the stranger ignored them. He built bodies wrapped in bandages, and trussed limbs roughly into the right places. Every now and then he dived his paw into the sack and pulled out a pawful of twisted, sinewy flesh, dried to jerky, and stuffed it into the bandaged collection to add to the bulk. And he hummed as he worked: a tuneless dirge, ancient and unearthly.
	“This feels weird,” groaned Hunter, as the stranger gently lifted his head from its position amongst the rocks and started to bandage it atop one of the wrapped bodies. “I’m all mixed up. My arms don’t work right. Look! Both of the bodies move when I try and move!”
	“You’ll get used to it,” said the stranger.
	“You’ve gone and fucked it all up is what you’ve done!”
	“Be grateful,” muttered Blunth.
	“Grateful for what? Getting turned into mangled puppets?”
	“At least we can move again.”
	Jerkily, a paw moved, feeling its way across to Blunth’s head. At the same time, parts of the other body, now worn by Hunter’s head, twitched and trembled. A thigh tried to move when Blunth bent his elbow. A toe twitched as the foot it was attached to jerked to the side with a muscle that rightfully belonged in Blunth’s shoulder. As Blunth lifted his own head and set it wonkily atop his shoulders, Hunter spasmed helplessly.
	“Would you stop that!” cried Hunter.
	“Hold it there,” said the stranger, reaching over to Blunth with his bandages. “And I’ll bind it in place for you.”
	“Thanks.”
	“Don’t thank him!”
	“He’s helping us.”
	“He got us like this in the first place!”
	“Gotta be polite.”
	“Like fuck!”
	The stranger sat back on his heels. “There. You look complete.”
	“I feel a bit numb,” said Blunth, prodding his bandaged chest.
	“Some bits of you are from...other sources. Spare parts. Not good for much else except stuffing.”
	“We’ve got bits of other people inside us too?” cried Hunter.
	“That’s right.”
	Hunter gaped wordlessly. His toothless maw made a wet clicking noise as his jawbone slid against bone salvaged from Blunth’s pelvis. “I...I don’t know what to say. I really don’t. That’s the most messed up thing I’ve ever...”
	“Thanks for fixing us,” said Blunth. “You’re alright, stinky fucker.”
	The stranger pulled himself to his feet, his body moving like a heap, barely contained, threatening to spill loose in a cascade of bone and dust from the constraints of his bandages. “I’m sorry I am not able to help you find your friend’s...boobs.”
	“Can you get us out of this tomb?” muttered Hunter.
	“I can’t help you with that either,” said the stranger. He had turned away, and was now shuffling towards the darkness beyond the torch’s light. “But you have all the time in the world ahead of you. If you have patience...you can get out.”
	“You’re just gonna leave us here?” said Hunter.
	The stranger didn’t reply. His shadow merged with the shapeless shadows of rock all around them. The torch began to ebb, threatening the ink of sightlessness once more.
	“We aughta find a way up,” said Blunth, jabbing a finger above him. Hunter’s left knee jerked. “Back to the tunnel. Take a look at that rock blocking the entrance.”
	“Up there?” Hunter tilted his head back, staring up into the darkness above. “Looks like a fucking mile straight up! It’s gonna take us forever to climb back up there!”
	Blunth grinned, with only one side of his muzzle managing to move. Hunter felt something writhe deep inside his gut. “Good thing we live forever, eh?”

Stone struck against stone in the darkness with a loud clack that reverberated down the long tomb tunnel.
	“Two billion, two hundred and seventeen million, nine hundred and fifty six thousand, three hundred and fifty six,” whispered Blunth.
	“Arse-licking lump of hairy-nippled mouse-dicked knobcheese,” said Hunter.
	Blunth grunted, hefted the stone in his paw, and brought it down against the pitted surface of the boulder.
	“Two billion, two hundred and seventeen million, nine hundred and fifty six thousand, three hundred and fifty seven,” he whispered.
	“Stump-sucking, cunt-faced, no-balled shit goblin.”
	“You’ve done that one.”
	“You sure?”
	“Yeah. ‘Bout ten million back.”
	“Pretty sure I haven’t.”
	“You did.”
	“Alright then. Hmm. Stump-sucking, cunt-faced, no-balled shit gremlin?”
	Blunth thwacked the stone against the boulder.
	“Two billion, two hundred and seventeen million, nine hundred and fifty six thousand, three hundred and fifty eight,” he whispered. “You wanna take a turn?”
	“Nah. I’m good. What’s progress like?”
	Blunth lay down the stone and slid his fingers along the floor beneath the boulder. “A few grains. And a bit about the size of my pinky claw.”
	“That the bit you’ve been working on?”
	“Yeah.”
	“Finally got the bugger, eh? Well done, Blunth.”
	Blunth stroked his fingers up the flank of the boulder. He traced the familiar curves and crevices. He knew them all. They were his legacy of work. The result of the long years of slow chiselling. His baby. His masterpiece. And with still four feet of rock between his carved recess and the fresh air and sunlight of the outside world, he was only two thirds of the way there. In the darkness, he smiled. He picked up the rock, balanced it in his paw, and brought it down with a feeble bump against the boulder.
	“Two billion, two hundred and seventeen million, nine hundred and fifty six thousand, three hundred and fifty nine,”
	“Sounds different,” said Hunter. “You picked a different spot?”
	“Yeah. Lula’s nipple.”
	“Really? Thought you liked that bit. Said you wanted to keep it.”
	“Changed my mind.”
	“Fair enough.”
	“There’s a new lady. Behind Lula. Gotta carve through her.”
	“Seems a bit harsh.”
	“Lula understands.”
	“Hah. I guess she’s a good lady! Well, get on with it then.”
	“You ain’t done your curse yet.”
	“Oh right. Erm. Spaff-sucking, minge-kicking, slimy spray of dead badger droppings.”
	“You’ve done that one and all.”
	“Oh come on. How can you know that?”
	“Got a good memory, ain’t I?”
	“Since when?”
	“Since forever.”
	“Bollocks have you got a good memory. You’re making it up. I’ve never said that one before and you bloody know it.”
	“I swear you ain’t.”
	“You’re having me on! I can hear your smile, ya bastard. You’re winding me up is what you’re doing. What you got planned, huh?”
	“Nothing, I swear!”
	“Yagh. Fuck you, Blunth.”
	“Not bloody likely.”
	“Shut it.”
	“I’m the one what does the fucking, ain’t I?”
	“I said shut it!”
	“Stick it in your arse. Makes it feel nice. All those bandages worn smooth and nice for me. Better than sticking my dick in a crack in the wall anyway!”
	“If you don’t shut your trap, Blunth...”
	“Think I might have a go now, in fact...”
	“Don’t even think about it! ‘Sides, you’ve got Lola to chisel away.”
	“Lula.”
	“Whatever her name is! Get working on her, ya oaf. Leave my poor arse alone. Or I’ll smack you into bits.”
	“And then you’ll have to put me together again.”
	“So what?”
	“Like last time.”
	“Yeah, well.”
	“And the time before that...”
	“Give me something to do at least, won’t it?”
	“Not in the mood anyway.”
	“Good! Get on with your carving then!”
	“Wonder who I’ll make next. Maybe a bear.”
	“Like hell you’re gonna carve a bear. You don’t even know what a fucking bear looks like.”
	“Well neither do you.”
	“Yeah, but I’m not the one who wants to go and carve one, am I?”
	“Yeah well. I figure bears probably have giant boobs.”
	“Whatever you say.”
	“How’re yours anyway?”
	Hunter grumbled. “Same as they are every time you ask me!”
	“Still cold?”
	“Cold as a dead bitch’s tits in winter, yes!”
	“Any fish nibbled ‘em?”
	“No. Just the cold.”
	“Well, that’s good.”
	“No it ain’t!”
	“Cold’s better than fish nibbles.”
	“You try it some time! You get your boobs dumped in a river and then ground into little bits and scattered out into the freezing bloody cold sea.”
	“You don’t know they’re in bits.”
	“They’re in bits. No way they’re not in bits. Boobs don’t last that long in the water.”
	“Says who?”
	“Says me! Now just shut up and carve your bear lady.”
	“Bleh. Alright.”
	Stone clunked against stone.
	““Two billion, two hundred and seventeen million, nine hundred and fifty six thousand, three hundred and fifty-”
	“No, it’s sixty. Get it right, Blunth.”
	“And sixty. Right.”
	“Huh. You hear something?”
	“No. And neither do you.”
	“Shut up Blunth! Seriously, don’t you hear that?”
	“No. Like I didn’t hear anything the last time. It’s not the stinky fucker coming back, and it’s not rock demons, and it’s not people digging down to rescue us. You’re not hearing anything.”
	“Shh! I swear, I hear something! Don’t you hear that? High pitched whiney sorta noise.”
	Blunth started to laugh. “That’s you!”
	“Shut it! I mean it! Stick that rock in your trap and just listen, alright? There! You gotta have heard that!”
	Blunth tilted his head. He laid down the rock and pressed his ear against the boulder. It was faint, but it was there: a quiet, siren screech, unceasing, growing louder.
	“Huh. Yeah, I hear it. Really quiet, like. How the fuck did you hear that?”
	“Got good ears, ain’t I? Only bits still working proper.”
	Blunth tapped his battered golden tongue against his teeth. “Weird. What do you think it is?”
	“Maybe it’s rock-”
	“It ain’t rock demons. There’s no such thing.”
	“There could be rock demons!” Hunter pulled himself up onto his knees. Beside him, Blunth jerked like a puppet, pulled by Hunter’s misplaced muscles.
	“There ain’t no rock demons. Where you going?”
	“Down the tunnel. Away! I don’t wanna get eaten by no fucking rock demons.”
	Blunth placed his paw on the boulder. It vibrated under his fingers, shaking his worn joints loose. The screeching was louder now, and getting still louder.
	“I’ll, uh.” Blunth hauled himself up onto his feet. In the distant darkness, Hunter staggered. “I’ll come with you.”
	“Hurry up then,” cried Hunter. “Get your arse down here before...oh fuck fucking cunt whistles what is that?!”
	It erupted like an alien beam. Both brothers screamed and dropped to their knees. The shrieking wail split their ears. And around them, the tunnel blossomed into horrifying visibility. They clutched at their eyes, blinded, clawing at their faces. The wailing whine ebbed away, and the burning light grew in intensity. The strange, alien sound of voices came rolling down the tunnel, and lights shone their twitching beams across the rock. Blunth lifted his head and twisted around, peering between his fingers.
	“Lula,” he croaked.
	The boulder was split in two, pulled either side of a blazing window of brilliant white. And stood against the light was a figure, bearing one cyclopean eye, blazing amber, just as bright as the white light. It bent forwards, peering into the darkness.
	“Someone’s there,” gasped Blunth. And behind him he heard Hunter’s shuffling feet on the stones, and felt his muscles twitch within him. He stood up, and together they lurched towards the light. The glow faded, their eyes adjusting. Blue sky appeared in the whiteness. The scent of leaves blew inwards. The cyclopean eye cast its beam on them. And then a scream came, louder than the whining wail, and the figure darted away out of view.
	“The fuck was that?” said Hunter.
	Together, mesmerised by the light, they shuffled forwards, arms outstretched. The warmth of the sun bathed their bandages. They blinked and winced from the light. And as the scene cleared from blinding white to shapes and colours, their puzzlement only grew. More of the creatures scattered screaming from them, but they were not one-eyed monsters: they were people, furred and ordinary, but the clothes they wore shone brilliant yellow, and each one wore a golden helmet, each peaked with a single glowing eye. They screamed and shouted, running from them, across a muddied field piled with angular shapes of yellow and iron grey. Beside the broken boulder stood a giant iron insect, taller than a man, with a great iron spear jutting out from its maw, twisted into a spiral, slowly spinning, slowing to a stop.
	“Demons,” cried Hunter, shuffling sideways to press against Blunth’s side. “I told you! It’s demons!”
	“But they ain’t from the rock. They ain’t rock demons.”
	“Sky demons then!”
	“They look like people.” Blunth lifted a paw to shield his eyes against the sun. Everything moved in a blur in front of him. So many colours. So much movement. His stomach churned. It all seemed so wrong. The black silence of the tunnel beckoned him back.
	“They ain’t people!”
	“They’re running away from us. They’re scared of something. I wonder what.”
	“I don’t care!” Hunter tugged at Blunth’s arm. “Let’s go back!”
	“But we’re out. We’re free!”
	Blunth started to walk forwards, his toes sinking into the wet mud. He inhaled deeply. Fresh leafy scents, so unlike the dusty stone of the tomb, greeted his nose. Hunter whimpered and staggered along beside him.
	“W-where are we going?”
	“To our castle! Let’s get our throne back.”
	“Our throne?”
	“Don’t you remember?”
	Hunter blinked, his dry eyelids scraping over his dry eyes. Gradually, the dim memories swam into focus. There was a life before the darkness of the tomb, so long ago. A life that was more than just cold and stone and dust.
	“Right...the castle.” Hunter lifted his paw to his eyes. Blunth twitched beside him, but it barely interrupted his stride. They walked in sequence together, shambling along in a practiced pattern that accounted for all the cross-wiring of their body parts. They were a harmony, perfectly-balanced, a union of bodies.
	“I think that’s a road,” said Blunth.
	“Didn’t used to be a road there.”
	“There’s one now.”
	“Looks like a river to me.”
	“It’s a road.”
	“It’s all smooth, Blunth! It’s smooth and black! It’s a river!”
	They shuffled towards it, past more metal insects and tall blocks of slatted iron. They shied away from the strange shapes around them, Hunter gripping Blunth’s arm, and Blunth in turn squeezing his brother against his side.
	“Little bit scared,” admitted Hunter.
	“Me too.”
	“This isn’t a road. It’s like...a frozen river. A black frozen river. Blunth, what the fuck is it?”
	Blunth edged closer. He bent down, reaching a finger out.
	“Don’t fucking touch it, Blunth! That’s a stupid idea!”
	“It’s warm,” said Blunth. “It’s not ice. And there’s lots of little stones in it.” He eased himself upright and, carefully, set a foot onto the black surface. He edged forwards, walking out into the middle. He turned around to face Hunter. “See? It’s a road. A weird road, but...why are you looking at me like that?”
	Hunter stared, wide-eyed, shrieking in horror, as the dragon appeared behind Blunth, its eyes burning with yellow flame, its throat roaring its angry challenge...and its wheels screeching and smoking on the black road. Blunth turned just in time to see it a moment before it hit him, shattering his body into fragments and exploding them outwards.
	Hunter dropped to his knees. He heard voices crying out. He saw movement. He heard screams. Blunth’s head spun on its cheek in the middle of the road.
	“Ow,” he croaked.
	Hunter closed his eyes. And he waited...for the dragon to destroy him next. His mind swayed. The heat of the sun tore into his bandages, bringing sweat from his dusty pores. He groaned, feeling sickly, clutching his stomach, feeling the parts of Blunth within him struggle. He heard footsteps pounding towards him. And then, with a feeble groan, he collapsed onto his side and felt himself fall to bits as he impacted the ground.
	And then everything was peaceful for a while. Which was nice.

“Hunter...”
	It was Blunth’s voice, but slick and smooth, without the metallic click of his golden tongue. Hunter groaned and squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. The light was blinding. Although, he couldn’t actually see the light. But he knew. Any level of light would be agony. His head pounded, his throat was sore, his mouth was dry, and his stomach felt like it was swimming in the ocean. He was hungover, for sure. And hungover meant light was bad. Darkness was good. And irritating brothers trying to wake you up was very bad.
	“Oi, you daft tit...wake up!”
	And then it occurred to Hunter that he shouldn’t even be able to remember what a hangover felt like, let alone have one now. There was no booze in the tomb. How could he have a hangover? He grunted, knitting his brows together in confusion. And then the memories came back: the black river, the dragon, Blunth smashing apart into a thousand pieces...
	“Blunth!” he cried, eyes shooting open. He hissed and turned his head away to the side. Bright light! He knew it! Brilliant and white like the noonday sun. He pulled his paw across his eyes and felt the smoothness of a metal palm that was distinctly not his worn old wooden and iron paw. He opened his eyes to the sight of metal fingers, polished to a mirror shine, adorned with knuckles made of what looked like white pearl. He twitched a finger, watching it move with perfection and precision that his cables could never manage.
	“What...” he croaked.
	There was a ceiling above. Or, at least, it looked like a ceiling. It too was white, with a grid of joins like ceramic tile. But it didn’t have the sheen of ceramics. And the one tile that was a bright, shining square...that was definitely not tile.
	Blunth’s grinning face leaned across to block out the light.
	“Blunth! You’re not all smashed up!”
	“Nah.” And when Blunth spoke, his tongue showed the same mirrored metal and white pearl as Hunter’s paw. “Fixed me right up, they did. Good as new. Stuck all me bits back together with poh-lee...puh...puhpuh...glue stuff. Look, see?”
	Blunth lifted an arm into view. The thick trunk of muscle and matted fur was now criss-crossed with milky white seams, like mortar in a stone wall. And where chunks were missing, or rotted away to shreds, the milky white filled the gap to a smooth, perfect finish. Blunth wiggled his fingers.
	“Look! They even made new claws for me. Made of...poo-stick.”
	Hunter frowned. “Poo stick?”
	“Poo...ploo. Plooooo-stick. Hard stuff.”
	Hunter looked around. His neck felt stiff to move. White walls. Window. Curtains on the window. Blunth standing there, wearing a white smock. Everything was straight and clean and tidy. Hunter shuddered. The bed beneath his back was soft, and the sheet draped over his body was silky smooth, unlike anything he’d ever felt. And when he lifted his arm, he saw he was criss-crossed with the same milky-white seams, and every shred of bandage and wire was gone.
	“Where the fuck are we, Blunth?”
	“Man says it’s Carridge.”
	“Carridge? We tore the whole village down! Built our castle there. I’m remembering that right, ain’t I?”
	Blunth scratched his nose and glanced to the window. “Think they tore down our castle and built Carridge again...bigger. Umm. Bit bigger.”
	“What do you mean, bigger?”
	Blunth stared at the skyscrapers clouding the view. “Bit bigger.”
	“Well, we’ll tear it down again! Build our castle back up ten times bigger. A hundred times bigger!”
	“Uh. ‘bout that.”
	“What?”
	“You might wanna talk to the...umm...little guy.”
	“Little guy?”
	“Yeah. The one what don’t speak weird.”
	“Speak weird?”
	“Everyone else speaks weird. All muddled up and stuff. The little one does too, kinda. But I can figure out what he’s on about. Some of the time...”
	“Does he know what the fuck’s going on?”
	“Think so.”
	“Well...”
	“What?”
	“Go fetch him!”
	Blunth glanced at the window again, then sniffled loudly. “Bleh.” He strode towards the door and gave it a push with his finger tip, swinging it open. Hunter tentatively lifted the sheet and peered underneath it. His naked body was more milky white glue than it was body. He let out a groan and laid the sheet back down. No breasts...and no fucking cock.
	“He’s coming,” said Blunth. From somewhere he had found a yellow fruit. He bit into it, spraying juice down his muzzle. He chewed happily. “Gonna tell you stuff.”
	“Stuff? What stuff?”
	The door opened behind Blunth and a small figure emerged.
	“What the fuck is that?” said Hunter.
	“He says he’s a lee-sard.”
	“He ain’t got no fur.”
	“That’s right,” said the figure. He smoothed a paw down the front of his suit. His nose twitched. He sighed. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that smell.”
	“He means us,” whispered Blunth.
	“Yeah, I got that,” said Hunter. “You’re right. He does talk weird.”
	“My name is Daniel,” said the lizard. “I’m professor of diachronic linguistics at-”
	“The fuck is that?” said Hunter.
	“It...doesn’t matter,” said David, glancing at Blunth. “The important thing is, I would like to welcome you. You and your brother.”
	“To what?”
	Daniel smiled. “To the future, of course. Do you know how long you were underground?”
	Hunter frowned. Blunth looked out of the window again, staring mesmerised at the view.
	“Well...”

It took a while to sink in. Hunter stared at the flickering dots. The breathless moans of a female in heat filled his ears. He leaned his head back and the dots swam together, into bouncing breasts and thrusting cocks.
	“And you can get this...whenever you want?”
	Daniel coughed. “Well, yes.”
	“Why the fuck do you ever do anything else?”
	“There’s more to life than watching pornography.”
	“What?”
	“Erm, the thing you’re watching. People having sex.”
	Blunth laughed. “Well, yeah. There’s having it too!”
	“Oh yeah, about that,” said Hunter. He jerked a thumb down towards his lap. “You guys gonna make me a new dick out of that poo-stick stuff?”
	“I don’t think it works like that.”
	“Why the fuck not?” Hunter flailed a paw towards Blunth, but kept his eyes on the screen. “You made him a new tongue. And a new paw for me.”
	“I can ask. But I don’t think-”
	“Alright, you do that.”
	“Until then, if you’d like to do another interview, I’d really like to talk more about the political structure of your court and the way-”
	Blunth grunted. His paw kneaded gently against the bulge in his smock. “Maybe later, alright?”
	“But...”
	“Later!”
	Daniel stiffened. “Alright. If there is a later...” He hurried from the room.
	“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hunter.
	“Dunno.” Blunth sniffed. He moved behind Hunter, looking over the top of his head at the screen. “Future’s a fun place.”
	“Yeah.”
	“We’re gonna have fun here.”
	“Yeah!”
	Blunth nudged the head of his cock against Hunter’s cheek, who groaned.
	“Right now? Really?”
	“Got the horn watching them porn people things doin’ it.”
	“I don’t wanna right now. Wanna keep watching.”
	Blunth’s paw came down onto the top of Hunter’s head. His fingers curled, gripping fur, both real and fake, all knitted securely into Hunter’s rebuilt scalp. “Don’t gotta be gentle no more neither. We’re all stuck together super strong like. Can’t fall apart with my dick in your mouth no more.”
	“Yeah, well that still ain’t no reason to go jabbing it in my face whenever you please.”
	“Don’t see why not. You always like it.”
	“I do not!”
	“Well, you always let me.”
	“But there’s loads more people now, Blunth. Look, like them.” He jabbed a finger at the screen. “We can fuck anyone we want now.”
	“Well, I can. You ain’t fucking no-one without no pecker.”
	“You shut your face, Blunth.”
	“You gonna make me?” He rubbed his cock along Hunter’s cheek, smearing precum into his patchy fur.
	“I just might!”
	“You ain’t gonna do nothing. Except turn around and...”
	Hunter snarled, darting his head to the side, snapping his teeth down hard onto the tip of Blunth’s cock.
	“Argh, you bastard!” Blunth flailed backwards, stumbling and crashing onto his back on the floor. “What you fucking go and do that for?! That hurt, it did!”
	“Told you I was gonna.”
	“Ain’t shut me up though, has it?”
	Hunter jumped up, lithe and nimble on legs that wouldn’t collapse into fragments under him any more. He aimed a kick towards Blunth’s crotch, but then caught the grin coming up to him from his brother.
	“Aw, fuck,” said Hunter. “You’re doing this on purpose, ain’tcha?”
	“What?” said Blunth, still grinning.
	“Making me beat you up. Fucking weirdo.”
	“Better than you being all-”
	“All what?” snapped Hunter.
	“All like...you normally are. Little bit of floppy, spineless string tied around my thumb. Or my knob...”
	“Shut up!”
	Blunth raised an eyebrow. He opened his mouth to reply.
	“I said shut up!” snarled Hunter. He stepped across Blunth and dropped himself down onto his knees either side of Blunth’s head, butt planted firmly on his chest. “Just ‘cause I ain’t got no cock any more, don’t mean I can’t stuff your mouth shut!”
	“Oh yeah? With what?”
 	Hunter’s lips peeled up over his teeth, a wide grin forming. He shuffled forwards on his knees, lifting his rear up and over Blunth’s muzzle.
	“Don’t you dare,” said Blunth. “Don’t you fucking dare.”
	“Don’t see you stopping me,” said Hunter. He held himself, poised, his bare butt sticking out from under his smock. “You gonna shut up? Gonna grab me and do that fucking you’re going on about? Huh?”
	“Maybe!”
	“What was that about me being a bit of string?”
	“What about it?”
	“Do I look all weak and spineless now, Blunth?” He spread his legs a little, settling his cheeks onto Blunth’s face. “What’s it like down there? I ain’t got a nose so I don’t smell what we smell like. We stink though, don’t we? All rotten and dried up. I can taste it, though. You can’t. Bit weird of the Gusting Rot to take those bits, ain’t it? Can’t compare now, can we? What do you reckon’s worse? The smell or the taste?”
	“Mmmph!”
	“Bet it smells like eggs under there! Right under my tail. You remember what eggs smelled like? Wonder if they’ve got ‘em in the future. So come on, Blunth...why ain’t you stopping me, huh?” Hunter peered back over his shoulder. “What are you doing with...oh I see! Whacking off your big fat dick instead of grabbing me and throwing me off ya, hmm? Like my fucking stinking hole over your nose more than you like watching jiggling boobs and hard fucking, huh? Told you you was a fucking weirdo, didn’t I?”
	“Mmph.”
	“Feels good, though. Your nose all huffy and breathing right down under there. I bet if I wiggle a bit, I can get you even deeper.”
	“Mmmph!”
	“Ah, that’s it. Nice, eh? Kinda comfy too.” Hunter twisted himself around, straining to look back at the screen. “Not easy to see the sex window though. Guess I just gotta put up with it. Not like it’s much good for me anyway. Don’t feel nothing but cold on my dick and my boobs any time any more. Wonder where they are. What do you reckon? Dust by now, eh? Not like that big thing of yours.”
	“Mmmmm.”
	“Funny how that thing ain’t got smashed up any time ever. You looked after it, didn’t ya? And then all that time in the tomb. All those times you...fucked me. Guess I was just the only thing around, of course. Well...’cept for sticking it in a hole in some rocks somewhere. But I figured you’d want something that weren’t gonna scratch your dick apart.”
	Blunth’s hips started to rock, butt cheeks pounding against the shiny floor. His paw rolled slick over the head of his cock, and his breathing huffed hard and fast against Hunter’s pucker.
	“Fucking weirdo is what you are. Dunno why I put up with you. Made me do this, is what you did. Goaded me into it. Made me sit on your fucking face and...what are you doing?!”
	Hunter closed his eyes and shuddered, leaning forwards. He shot out an arm to brace himself against the little table that stood beside the bed. He exhaled a short, noisy gasp.
	“Fucking...was that your tongue? I mean...that new poo-stick tongue thing? Feels fucking good! Do that some more!”
	“Mmmh!”
	“Do it! Stick out your tongue and...oh feeeck.”
	Hunter’s paw strayed to the empty smoothness of his crotch. He sighed, lost dreamily in the slick, squishy pleasure. He squeezed Blunth’s head between his knees and ground down a little harder, rocking his hips. He felt Blunth shudder beneath him...and the wet splatter of cum against the back of his smock.
	“Ah, dirty bastard. You’re gonna clean that up.”
	Blunth’s big, thick paw rose up and grabbed Hunter’s arm. With lazy ease, he lifted Hunter up and shoved him away to the side.
	“I ain’t cleaning nothing. Gonna have servants, ain’t we? That Daniel guy says we’re gonna live like kings.”
	“We were fucking kings!”
	“Yeah, but we don’t gotta fight anyone for it this time. Just gotta talk to him about stuff and go on...on...umm. Some thing.”
	“Fat lot of good you are. Can’t remember can ya?”
	Blunth grunted and wiped his paw on Hunter’s smock. He sat up, looking up at the screen. “Nah, I remember. Just dunno what it means. Says we’re gonna go on talking shows.”
	“What? Like a play?”
	“Think so.”
	“We ain’t actors.”
	“Says we gonna have everything we want.”
	“Well, I want my castle. And my boobs. And my dick. And for you to shut up. And then suck my dick when I got it back. And then shut up some more.”
	“Bleh.”
	“Fat oaf.” Hunter followed Blunth’s line of sight to the screen. “Stop staring. They ain’t gonna let you join in, you know.”
	“Don’t think I can. They don’t see us, do they?”
	“Like fuck do I know. None of it makes sense. They look good, though.”
	“Yeah.”
	“Guess you’re gonna be fucking all the future people now, eh Blunth? Now that you don’t gotta use the only thing you got. Got some choice now, ain’t ya. Gonna fuck everyone you find?”
	“Nah. They probably don’t smell right.” Blunth reached over and, with the flat of his great paw, swatted the back of Hunter’s head. “I’ll stick with you.”
	Hunter grunted. “Oh joy.”

The thing in the corner that ticked was called a clock. Hunter didn’t like it. He glared at it. The thing didn’t stop making its noise.
	“This ain’t a play,” said Hunter.
	“A play?” Daniel said. “Why were you expecting a play?”
	“Blunth said there was gonna be a show thing.”
	“Oh. That comes later. Now, you mentioned that you had no food at all when you were in the tomb?”
	“Yeah, that’s right.”
	“But you were down there for hundreds of years. The sheer physics of it alone. I mean, you need to consume energy in order to expend it. You should have wasted away to nothing.”
	Hunter blinked rapidly. “Huh?”
	“Never mind. Where’s your brother? He’s meant to be here.”
	“Says he can’t be arsed.”
	“I wanted to talk with both of you. You’re both...marvels. Totally against any sense or reason. You shouldn’t be sat here, but yet you are.”
	“Well you can thank the Gusting Rot for that.”
	“Who we can’t find.”
	“Not my problem.”
	The boxy ploo-stick thing on Daniel’s desk began chirping. Hunter flinched backwards, scraping his chair on the floor.
	“The fuck is that?” he snapped.
	Daniel lifted part of it to his ear and started talking to himself.
	“Fucking weird place this is. You’re all nuts. Fucking crazy as a pickled badger.”
	Daniel began to slump in his chair, his expression drooping. “I see,” he said. His eyes flitted to Hunter. “When? And the brother? Already? But I was promised more...the opportunity to study them is...I understand. Alright.”
	He set the thing back down and stared off into the middle distance.
	“Fucking crazy,” muttered Hunter.
	Daniel suddenly smiled: a wide, empty smile. The Gusting Rot had smiled like that. There was nothing in the eyes.
	“I’ve got a nice...surprise...to show you.”
	“Yeah?”
	“Your brother’s already there.”
	“Bet it’s sex stuff then. More for him to watch, huh? Not sure I like it. Not without a dick. You guys still not gonna make one for me?”
	“I told you...”
	“Fucking selfish is what it is. Better be a nice surprise. This place is weird.” He shot a glare at the ploo-stick thing on the desk. “Fucking weird...”

The ride in the dragon was smooth and serene, but still Hunter felt his stomach turn in knots. No amount of assurance from Daniel that the beast would let him climb back out through the hole in its side would calm him. They barrelled along at otherworldly speeds atop one of the black ice rivers, and the sight through the glass...that part, at least, was recognisable...spun his head and made him feel dizzy.
	“Fucking weird,” he whispered, over and over.
	They led him in a daze through rooms of grey stone that appeared to have no joins, no mortar. Lights gleamed above him, harsh and white, brighter than candles should be. Odd sounds, gurgles and rattles, came from everywhere. The men flanking him, aside from Daniel, wore strange green clothes. How they stood and walked reminded him of the guardsmen from so long ago, except these carried no swords or pikes: just odd lumpy shapes of black metal with blunt, useless poles sticking out the front. One of the men yammered something in the garbled, mixed up speech that made no sense to Hunter, and as a group they turned towards a tall iron door with a large iron wheel fixed to its middle.
	“We’re here,” said Daniel.
	“My brother there?”
	“Yes. Just in here...”
	“Doesn’t look like a palace. Thought we were gonna have a palace?”
	“This is...” Daniel glanced at one of the other men. “A kind of palace. A special place for you and your brother.”
	Hunter jumped back as the door banged, like someone had hit it from the other side. The wheel in the middle began to turn. The whole thing groaned like a beast in pain, then slowly started to open out towards him. The men around him shuffled backwards. Hunter peered past the door, into the opening. Nobody was there pushing it.
	“Don’t look like a palace,” said Hunter, staring into the stark corridor beyond. More doors, like the one he stood at, lined the walls. Each one bore a number, painted in large white numerals. A couple of the men broke off from the group and marched forwards. Hunter felt a nudge to his back.
	“Hey!”
	They hurried him along. Daniel scampered alongside him, spouting repeated assurances that everything was fine. The place just looked a little...strange. But he would get used to it. This was just how things looked in the future.
	“It still don’t look like a palace.”
	The men who had gone ahead now stood flanking an opened door. Inside was a stark, empty room, with naked stone walls and a single light glowing from the ceiling. The pushes to his back became more insistent. He was being pushed inside.
	“This ain’t a palace! It looks like a tomb! You ain’t shutting me away in another tomb! Don’t you fucking dare! You let me go right-”
	Hunter had underestimated the odd weapons the men were carrying. They weren’t swords or pikes after all. They were clubs. Big, weirdly-shaped clubs, but very effective. One of them cracked right down onto his skull. He felt the glue fracture and his skull fragments splinter even further. He spun, giddy, and crumpled to the floor. The last thing he saw was the door swinging shut towards him.

Document 1-4034322-3206: Regarding containment of entities named “Hunter Garson” and “Blunth Garson”.
	Experimentation has confirmed that the entities do not require sustenance, water, light, heat, nor mobility, and have been adequately contained without access to maintenance for 106 days as of time of writing. Their statements of personal history, and the corroborating excavations at site 63-F, suggest that they are capable of being stored in such a state for periods of time extending beyond several centuries.
	At various times, the entities have been known to engage in self-destructive activities. Namely: plucking at fur, scratching, blunt force impact with walls and floor, and, in the case of Blunth Garson, self-pleasure leading to a loss of body fluids. Such activities present a risk to ongoing conservation of the entities’ physical forms.
	Thought must also be given to the well-being of staff employed at the site. The current ventilation system is not adequately equipped to fully purify the air cycled through the containment cells of the entities. Complaints regarding noisome odour are frequent.
	The implication is clear: though superficially alive, mobile and sentient, the entities in question are most efficiently stored using the standard object containment protocols, freeing up their current containment resources, and removing existing containment and conservation difficulties.
	Commencement of adjusted procedures is due following committee approval.

“Blunth!”
	Hunter lurched forwards, but the shackles holding his wrists kept him tethered to the men in green clothes. Across the room, Blunth trudged between his own escorts, shackled similarly.
	“Blunth, answer me, damn it! What’s going on? Where have you been? We’ve been tricked, Blunth! Fucking tricked again!”
	The men jabbed him in the back, sending him staggering forwards. The centre of the room contained two tall glass cylinders, like giant drinking vessels. They were being led towards them.
	“Speak to me, Blunth! What’s wrong?”
	Blunth finally lifted his head. He fixed Hunter with a sorrowful glare. He opened his mouth: his empty, tongueless mouth.
	“They took your tongue? Why would they do that? Bastards!”
	Blunth grunted, shrugging.
	“It’s good to see you, Blunth. So...we’re gonna get out of here, right? You’re gonna smash stuff up and we’ll dig our way out. Just like the tomb, eh Blunth?”
	The glass cylinders clicked, then slid upwards. The men shoved Blunth and Hunter into place beneath them and jumped backwards. Before the brothers could react, the glass came slamming back down, sealing snugly with the floor. Hunter banged his forehead against the glass and raised his foot to kick at it.
	“Fucking bastards!”
	His foot scraped uselessly against the glass. He could see Blunth in the other tube, standing stock still, staring back at him.
	“Break it, Blunth! Smash the glass. You’re stronger. Do it, for fuck’s sake!”
	Hunter jerked his head up as a gurgle came from above. A hole in the ceiling opened, and a syrupy drop of clear liquid landed on his muzzle.
	“Ugh! The fuck is this?”
	He twisted in place, trying to bring his shackled wrists around in front. He pressed his muzzle against the glass and wiped it clean. But he felt another impact against the back of his neck. And it wasn’t a drop this time: a stream of gloopy liquid was pouring down onto him.
	“They’re gonna drown us, Blunth!” He slammed his shoulder against the glass. Beyond, the men stood watching him, clutching their strange weapons. None of them moved to help him.
	“Let us go! You fuckers! You can’t do this to us! We’re kings!”
	The syrupy liquid had pooled around his feet. It sucked at his toes when he tried to move them. The surface rose to smother his ankles. He tried to yank a foot free, but it was trapped. And it was getting harder to move his toes.
	“This stuff’s going solid! Blunth, don’t let it cover you!”
	It was too late. Through the glass, Hunter could see Blunth twisting from side to side, struggling to free his feet. The liquid rose in both tubes, climbing past their knees. Still more poured down onto their shoulders, dribbling down their bodies, solidifying as it went, caking into their fur, making the struggles harder and harder.
	“You bastards! You utter rotten bastards!”
	Hunter lifted his head up as the liquid reached his chest. He couldn’t move anything below his waist, and his upper body felt like it was submerged in sludge. The gloop drooled down over his head, falling in sticky drips into his eyes. He snarled out in inarticulate rage. And then the liquid overflowed into his mouth. It rushed up his muzzle, covering his eyes, covering his ears, suddenly plunging him into mute, overbearing silence.
	He couldn’t move...
	He could see the men move outside of the tube, busying themselves with things just out of view. Hunter tried to move his eyes, but they were held rigid by the liquid, which was now as solid as stone. He could see Blunth, frozen in place, his mouth open, his eyes staring back at Hunter.
	He couldn’t speak...
	His curses stayed trapped in his head. His thoughts danced in a rage. How dare they! This was...this was evil! The world lurched backwards as the tube of solidified clear liquid now started to move, flanked by men around him. He felt the bumps and shakes of wheels moving beneath him over the seamless stone floor. Blunth’s cylinder slid out of view. Bastards! Bastards, how dare they!
	Down the corridor they travelled, past the long rows of doors, though endless turns and branches. Then, finally, a vast space like a cavern, bigger than any Hunter had ever seen, bigger than the biggest hall in his castle. And in it were wooden crates. He recognised those! Not everything in the future was strange! And he wished he didn’t recognise them, because one crate stood empty, and he was being wheeled towards it.
	As the darkness closed around him and the sound of hammers on nails, vibrating up through the solidified liquid, faded away to silence, he heard a soft voice, whispering from the darkness. A voice like the crackle of bandages in a disturbed tomb. A voice like the air moving through a decaying library. The voice of the Gusting Rot.
	“Life endless and boundless. You will walk the earth for all its years. None can harm you. None can kill you. You will be undefeatable. You will rule all that you wish to rule and love it and enjoy it for days eternal. For a small trade...”
	Hunter tried to scream. No air could move through his throat. His chest would not rise or fall. He tensed muscles that did nothing, trapped inside the cocoon of clear glass, of crystal, of evil future magic, utterly trapped and immobile. He would not walk the earth. He would not rule it. But...he would live, life endless and boundless, for days eternal. And he knew that Blunth was somewhere nearby, trapped in his own cocoon, in his own crate, just as helpless as he was.
	“For days eternal,” whispered the voice, fading away. “For days eternal...”