Chapter 50: Nigel’s grave.

NIGEL TROTTED OVER to the pristine bones. The body was still shaped exactly as Nigel had left it, the tail flat. Not a chunk of skin or a single drop of blood was left.

“I reckon the flesh eaters do it decent.” Nigel shrugged. The butterflies didn’t need compliments.

“I know how the inkers do this,” the bloke began, launching into another detailed explanation.

While Nigel listened absently to Pete’s explanation of how ...