Pathologic. Fifth wheel | Welter in coat

Ah, that February road mud, so fresh with yesterday's thaw memory and today's blood yet getting old with the ice just again. Hurts so much to lie in it and hurts so much to stay conscious. Pleases so much to realize there's Worms-drawn cart passing by: Worms do have hearts.

The Inquisitor was caught on and was broken in two: Diamonds do have violent taste. They ripped off his shoulder straps but left the mask intact to let it turn into the death one, dropped the business card farewell and moved on. Who could imagine someone else will go this road in the middle of nowhere: said cart, carrying stern-looking mysteries and stern-looking old man next to them, just on the right cart's side. Isidor Burakh also took something off from the Inquisitor: his hair, cut, as the offering to the soil that being fed with the blood just got starving. Pleases again that Worms do also have physical strength, they don't mind to carry a human weight.

Life saved, but maimed remains. Well, maybe some little ditties will do.