“It’s not long now,” she said. Her eyes were locked on his, but she could see his lips, his quivering, dried out lips, trying to answer, forming the words of a breathless reply. “Shh,” she hushed, stilling his mouth with a finger. “I’ve heard it before, probably.”
The struggling rhythm of the hot air shooting from his nostrils came in quick, pained blasts. Death was on him.
“Shh,” she repeated as spasms rocked his body. An idea, an idea which had troubled her from the top of her tower down to her crypt returned. She studied his face and decided.
Tale Told 