"Sorry," th'lawman says, an' shakes'is head. "Just heard 'bout it second-hand, an' I don't know that she saw much either. Ah...Miss Thorn? I'm guessing... mean, I've heard 'bout some a' your work... mean. Er. I'd sure 'preciate hearin' what you had ta say. If ya could."
I nod, cuzzit is rather what I do. Part'a me thinks I oughta ask fer payment, if'n th'bloody town 'ffic'als's gettin' involved, but I bite't back. We's all here, annit wouldn't be nothin' more'n I'd be doin' on m'own, so...
"From what I can tell," I says, pacin' 'round th'edges 'a th'circle, "...well. Pretty clear't wuzza blast'a power. Likely fire. But't don't feel like anythin't wuz meant, if'n y'get m'meanin'. Feels like..." Pause, shake m'head 'gain. "Feels like'n amateur. But not total, annat's what's buggin' me." Look up, an'ey's starin't me, an'I sigh. "Well, look, see'ere, where th'grass ain't scorched'n th'middle? 'at feels t'me like a circle'a protection. Annat ain't 'n amateur's trick. A real bloody amateur woulda gotten'emselves broiled 'long wit' th'trees. So somebody here knows t'protect'erself, but can't control 'er own powers. I don't rightly get't, t'be honest."
Just finished sayin'is when th'monk, Samuel, calls, "Someone may have been lying here. There was blood. Quite a lot of it, I should imagine. Else not even this bit would have survived the rain."
"Blood?" Says Noma, "I don't suppose there's any way to tell if it is animal or human."
"Lemme see," I says, walkin' over t'em. I see what Samuel means - there's a smeared red stain on th'grass. Bend down, take onna th'blades'a grass 'tween m'fingers, an'I roll't cross m'tongue, suckin' onnit.
An'en I freeze.
"'scuse me," I says, grittin' m'teeth. "I gotta find someone who oughta be dead an' kick'm square'n th'balls."
no subject
I nod, cuzzit is rather what I do. Part'a me thinks I oughta ask fer payment, if'n th'bloody town 'ffic'als's gettin' involved, but I bite't back. We's all here, annit wouldn't be nothin' more'n I'd be doin' on m'own, so...
"From what I can tell," I says, pacin' 'round th'edges 'a th'circle, "...well. Pretty clear't wuzza blast'a power. Likely fire. But't don't feel like anythin't wuz meant, if'n y'get m'meanin'. Feels like..." Pause, shake m'head 'gain. "Feels like'n amateur. But not total, annat's what's buggin' me." Look up, an'ey's starin't me, an'I sigh. "Well, look, see'ere, where th'grass ain't scorched'n th'middle? 'at feels t'me like a circle'a protection. Annat ain't 'n amateur's trick. A real bloody amateur woulda gotten'emselves broiled 'long wit' th'trees. So somebody here knows t'protect'erself, but can't control 'er own powers. I don't rightly get't, t'be honest."
Just finished sayin'is when th'monk, Samuel, calls, "Someone may have been lying here. There was blood. Quite a lot of it, I should imagine. Else not even this bit would have survived the rain."
"Blood?" Says Noma, "I don't suppose there's any way to tell if it is animal or human."
"Lemme see," I says, walkin' over t'em. I see what Samuel means - there's a smeared red stain on th'grass. Bend down, take onna th'blades'a grass 'tween m'fingers, an'I roll't cross m'tongue, suckin' onnit.
An'en I freeze.
"'scuse me," I says, grittin' m'teeth. "I gotta find someone who oughta be dead an' kick'm square'n th'balls."