Freki's heart sinks yet again as he hears the muffled sounds of the Grimjaw's third meal, at least that's what he thinks, but in reality only two of his companions have been killed and eaten.
When he feels it is finally safe, he returns to the attack site and enters the clearing, freshly made by the destructive force of the Grimjaw's body and tail and what looks like the remnants of a giant fire, now smoldering in the damp morning drizzle.
He sees splatters of blood and a devastated Saffron to confirm what he had heard.
"Aarrrrhhhhhh!" he screams in frustration, kicking a piece of flaming charcoal towards the direction the Grimjaw had wandered off after his meal.
Dropping to his knees, he can't help tears welling in his eyes, thinking of the gregarious times the two had had on their journey to Khazuul. He had hoped they would have many more, but it wasn't to be.
As he wipes the tears away, the glint of Thorn's sword peeking out from the mud catches his eye. He picks it up delicately as if it was the man's dead body itself, cradling it for a few moments. He then stabs it into the ground, like a cross marking a grave site. Still on one knee, both hands on the sword he says,
"You leave us too soon, my friend ... but I will do by best to bring this sword to your uncle, so that your family can lay something of you to rest."
As he's strapping the sword to his pack he hears a familiar voice ...
Cutwell?!?
Looking up he sees what must be a ghost, the heat and wet of the jungle, the exhaustion must be getting to him, but no, it really is the doctor.
"You're alive?! I thought I heard ... Ha ha," he rushes to the man and embraces him with a big laugh to confirm to himself he is actually real.
"How the hell did you escape that monster? I swear I heard him chomping on your metal arm."
Suddenly, his eyes widen,
"Where's Sow?"