‘Let’s get moving, R’angroth, it’s staring at us.’
‘Grump, I’m still hungry. Nice bones, don’t you think S’roarsh?’ R’angroth exclaimed, glancing at the skeleton, from his cover behind the old and moldy bedrolls. ‘There might be some marrow inside, let’s crack them!’
‘Are you crazy? I’m telling you, it’s looking at us. That corpse is following me with the one eye it has left.’
S’roarsh had to admit the hunger was gnawing at him, just as much as it was on R’angroth. And he didn’t know who he distrusted more, his mate, or the skeleton. He had seen R’angroth glancing at him last night, probably assuming he was asleep. He had seen the red glimmer in his mate’s eye. Hunger did that to you. Just a second ago, he saw the same red glimmer in the eye of the skeleton.
‘Come on S’roarsh. Let’s at least get the potato’s, so I won’t have to start nibbling your legs tonight.’ R’angroth’s broad smile, showing his fangs made his joke a threat. ‘Those Khajiit are no living death.’
‘Khajiit! You miserable moron, are you born blind? That’s not a Khajiit and never has been. Look at that skull.’
It had been puzzling S’roarsh from the minute he noticed the red eye glancing at him. What had it been, a dark elf? In this area? The corpse looked like it had been killed in a cruel game of execution, pinned to a tree like that, with a target on its skull. A sick game of archery, the real target tossed aside on the ground. It was just the kind of game R’angroth and his friends would enjoy. It made him nauseous, he wished he wasn’t so pathetic soft-hearted. He felt like a disgrace to his race.
R’angroth dashed forward from his cover behind the bedrolls, diving on the potato’s. The glimmer in the eye of the skeleton was definitely lighting up now. S’roarsh crouched behind the barrel while he suppressed a whimper. The skeleton grabbed R’angroth by the leg and set its teeth in the flesh. R’angroth bellowed with pain, striking the skeleton with all his force. That was a mistake and cost him dearly. The skeleton sank its teeth in R’angroth’s throat, blood spattering on the ground, the tree and the cast-away target. In a last attempt to save his life, R’angroth severed the skull from the fleshless carcass, sending the skeletons head flying into the bushes.
S’roarsh stared at the pile of lifeless bones and the fresh flesh on the ground. There it was, a fresh meal. Now was the time to overcome his fussiness. A meal was a meal after all. He left his cover and sank his fangs in the juicy leg of his mate. Suddenly he heard a noise from behind the tree. Another skeleton was staring at him with two red shining eyes, a dagger still stuck between its ribs.
‘Hello dear,’ it said, ‘I’ve been dying to meet you.’