80. Black Ruins
Tim had to admit, he really messed up this time. “Who sent you?!” they asked for the umpteenth time. Tim braced himself; what would it be this time? The fist? The boot? The whip? But no. This time, they were getting creative. “Talk, or the little monster dies!” Tim blinked, tried to blink through puffy eyelids. They were holding knives against the lynxmouse caught in the cage opposite him. “Squii!” the lynxmouse spoke angrily. He cursed eloquently, cursing their mothers, their fathers, their entire families, their dogs, he even cursed their cheese… But of course, while Tim had a vague idea of what the lynxmouse was saying, their captors did not. They simply started knifing the brave little critter. Tim stared woodenly, mutely. One more hero, fallen in service of the Frontier. It wasn’t the first. At least this one wasn’t falling right out the bottom of the ground and falling down a cliff. Mustn’t show any anger, any pain at the
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