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"No," Seth said, "we haven't lost. Yet. The Dark Ones are angry, but their
wrath is for one of their number. We are excused. The Great Work still goes
on. Roger, we must prepare to summon a demon. Quickly. You must nurture this
one with your blood. We must strike."
Seth stood up, and straightened his mirrorshades. Inside, he could still hear
the tick-tock of the crocodile.
He raised the knuckle of his right forefinger to his mouth, and bit. The
finger came off and fell away. A feeble spurt of blood splashed on the table,
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and he drew a sign of protection with it.
He sucked the stump. The finger would grow back soon.
Hawk-That-Setties sat up, and sang his song of life. He felt no triumph, for
he had not truly overcome anything. But he was alive, when he had had no
chance of survival. From now on, his life was blessed, the gift of the
manitou. He must be careful with it.
Krokodil heard him and walked across the sand to find him.
Note: for further adventures of Krokodil, Hawk-That-Settles and others see
Comeback Tour by Jack Yeovil.
The End
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