Sort of Deadly

36 - I'd Rather Not Be Eaten Alive

I always expected to meet Rasthrum again after we first left Lakoswanion. I just never thought we’d both be tied to a stake when we did.

Hundreds of people of the City of a Hundred Haunts stand before us, jeering and cheering like a bunch of GABAs. There must be a serious lack of entertainment here, because I’ve never seen this many people this excited about anybody’s execution.

Of course, this is my execution, so I don’t exactly feel good about it. Mine and Rasthrum’s, that is.

I hate to say this, but he really does bear semblance to a Restroom. He’s shabby and smelly and his messed-up face is more messed up than ever.

‘Tsk,' I whisper to him between all the clamor.

‘Hello to you too, girl,' says he. Girl. Not gurrrl. There’s definitely something broken inside of him.

‘Got any sharp ideas for our escape?’

Rasthrum grunts. ‘I wish. I’m sorry I ever got you in this muck.’

‘You didn’t,' I say comfortingly. ‘It was a conscious choice before and it’s a conscious choice now. I’ll be proud to burn with my friend. Of course, I’d rather not burn at all, but that seems a bit too much to ask for given our predicament.’

‘Oh, Ravenna won’t burn us,' says Rasthrum, nodding at the evil bird woman sitting smugly a good twenty feet behind us.

‘What do you mean?’ say I.

‘She’s not one for burning. The crowd needs more.’

‘What can be worse than burning?’

As if to answer me, a raven pecks at my shoes.

‘Oh boy,' I mutter as I realize that we’re going to be eaten alive. Of all the ways to die.

The crowd will get their show, alright. Chants of ‘We want blood! We want blood!’ deafen me.

‘SIIIIILEEEEEEEENCEEEEEE!’

This is Ravenna. Obviously everyone obeys.

She smiles her inverted smile. ‘My dear hornbills,' she starts, ‘I am so delighted to introduce you to the son of the infamous Grahi Witch.’

A couple of ravens pull Rasthrum’s face up by putting his hair in their beaks.

‘And,' Ravenna adds, positively brimming with glee, ‘the human mind behind the fall of the Order of the Witch Grant! What the Coven Thirteen couldn’t do with their sorcery, I shall do with help from my chittering companions. Now she is just bird fodder.’

The crowd claps.

Ravenna scowls at them. ‘Silence! Why are you so clucking excited when it is I who has garnered the victory? Your lives will be just as petty and miserable as they were before!’

The crowd sags unitedly.

Ravenna smirks. ‘That’s better,' she says. ‘Let the feast begin!’

I close my eyes reflexively as I hear the rush of a thousand wings . . . then open them back up as I realize they’re rushing in the wrong direction.

Towards a giant butterfly flapping her wings, which have huge gaping holes in them.

And sitting on Goof’s back is none other than our spirit-turned-human, Es.