the blood of A

Friend, yes, most would not call that of him, but that he is, and he is mine. Who was it who said that friends were hard to come by in these parts? Well true it is to be sure, and I am glad to have him.

Indeed, he does steal the better part of my scraps, but what need have I for scraps? My bones are enough for me and scraps I do not need. Not when there is company to be had, and at night, the warmth of a friend.

And he does stink, but we reek together and together we reek, my friend and me. It keeps the dogs at bay with their sniffery and their hopping- and what is better than some quiet time with a friend?

Ah, some would scorn at his habits to be sure, it is considered foul what he rolls in, but here where all reeks and the ceiling drips with fungus and footsteps (so few) echo down caverns the wind does not touch- well what is a foul habit between friends?

I know topsiders call me insane and they mock me when upon me they stumble. They pull my beard and call me you insane, foul old man, but they are the ones that go and my friend is the one who stays. He does not call me names, and what opinion counts but that of a friend?

He calls me friend too.

~

She gritted her teeth and wrenched. The dagger came out with a satisfying slurp and fetid air rushed out of the creature's insides, blowing the strands of hair off her face and enveloping her with a reeking stench. She retched out a lungful of air, splattering the creature's body with spittle. The creature, smaller now, lay still, blood oozing out its wounds.

Analeb wiped the dagger on her tunic- the blood would blend in with the rest- and slipped it into her belt. She selected an empty vial from the array of containers tied at her waist, then knelt beside the creature, her face screwed up at the odour. The bottle filled to the brim as the last of the creature's fluids drained away.

She straightened and capped the bottle, ignoring Aerie's expression of wide-eyed shock and Edwin's quiet heaving. The damp heavy air of the sewers held the creature's dying stench well and she knew the smell would cling to her hair for days. She caught a glimpse of Jaheira's enraged glare, heard the druid begin a harsh reprimand, and turned her back. The beggar she didn't notice at all.

"Minsc, here." She tossed the vial, warm now, at Minsc. The ranger was staring at the deflated body of the creature and even in the darkness, she could see the darkeness of his pupils. He fumbled the vial, but managed to catch it. Analeb noted how quickly he stowed the bottle away, then wiped his hands against the slimy walls of the sewer.

"Well that's the last of them." She smiled at her companions without mirth, reserving her most defiant stare for Jaheira. "Let's get the reward."

Raising her chin, she deliberately stepped in the body of the carrion crawler before heading towards the pipes where the filth flowed. The boots would be hard to clean, but the point was made. She was the leader.

Her companions followed her mutely. Aside from the constant dripping of water in the sewers, there was no sound but their footsteps and the sobs of an old man.