Death pulled off the towel and stood up.
I wanted his naked skin pressed. A spanish drummer boy, scarcely ten years old, was curled at the side of the the archway, his hands contracting into claws as he died.
Mbejane built a fire in the shelter of a red stone outcrop and they huddled beside it brewing coffee, trying to keep out of the snow-cold wind, but it came down off the mountains and blew a plume of sparks from the fire.
In the absence of a more pressing emergency, hunter had to let them sleep in the relative comfort and safety of the inn.