He drew his dagger and felt Sprout’s neck. The pulse of her main artery was weak and erratic under his fingers. He rested the dagger there but didn’t push it in.
‘I can’t,’ he whispered. ‘She might recover.’
‘The Dead will drink her blood and feast upon her flesh!’ exclaimed Mogget. ‘You owe her better than that. Strike!’
‘I can’t take a life. Even that of a horse, in mercy,’ said Sam, standing up unsteadily. ‘I realized that after…after the constables. We’ll wait together.’
Mogget hissed, then jumped across Sprout’s neck, one paw tracing a line of white fire across the horse’s neck. For an instant, nothing happened. Then blood burst out in a terrible fountain, splashing Sam’s boots and throwing hot drops across his face. Sprout gave a single, convulsive shudder—and died.
‘I can’t,’ he whispered. ‘She might recover.’
‘The Dead will drink her blood and feast upon her flesh!’ exclaimed Mogget. ‘You owe her better than that. Strike!’
‘I can’t take a life. Even that of a horse, in mercy,’ said Sam, standing up unsteadily. ‘I realized that after…after the constables. We’ll wait together.’
Mogget hissed, then jumped across Sprout’s neck, one paw tracing a line of white fire across the horse’s neck. For an instant, nothing happened. Then blood burst out in a terrible fountain, splashing Sam’s boots and throwing hot drops across his face. Sprout gave a single, convulsive shudder—and died.
Lirael, Garth Nix (via walklikeaghost)
![[ These Days don't Disappear like Bubbles ]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/avatar_a2bbca9ccca9_64.png "[ These Days don't Disappear like Bubbles ]"){kind=avatar}
[These days really don't disappear like bubbles. They don't *pop* and cease to exist when the hands of the clock continue with their monotonous ticking. Instead, it lingers on in the crevices of the mind.]
