Honey is Sweeter Than Blood
“ He jerks himself to his feet, his movements quick and bird-like, darting looks around him at the graying dusk as he becomes active once again. His head is that of a very old jester doll with its stuffed cloth body long rotted away; even his bifurcated belled hat and the cottony inside of his skull are gone, leaving a hollow into which he once inserted a plump and thorny green chestnut which has since gone brown as a sea urchin. His skin is cracked and partially blackened, but his eyes are br...ight, nose aquiline, his smile brave if his lips are no longer red. Before he was fully sentient, others made him a body of sticks and small metal bits wired together into articulate joints, and his clothing is black tatters that stream from his arms like lacerated wings. He is in his tiny chamber hidden within a large heap of dead and fallen branches toward the back corner of the kingdom, and stoops to follow a twisting, scratching passageway through a barbed maze of twigs like brittle, grasping fingers.MoreLess
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