INKDREAM
Dustfinger opened his eyes to see that he was in Fenoglio's house, near the castle of Ombra. As he stood up, Gwin leaped up onto his shoulder and Jink shrank down on the floor, snarling. Dustfinger looked around the room, he could hear a faint snoring and saw a glass man sitting on the desk by the window, sleeping. He gazed out the window and saw that the sun was only just over the horizon. Jink leaped up onto his other shoulder and rubbed his soft nose on Dustfinger's cheek full of scars. Fenoglio must of gone to the markets, for there was nobody in his bed. All of a sudden there was knocking on the door, frantic and loud. A voice was calling from outside and it sounded somehow familliar. The deepness and power in it and the rage sprinkled in for effect.
He regreted it the second he opened the 's arm flew around his neck as quik as a viper and it squeezed 3 times as hard. Jink leaped onto Basta's head and bit his ear while Gwin leaped at his face. Basta slipped his knife out of his pocket and pierced Gwin in the chest, he fell limp to the floor, dark, sticky blood pooling around his lifeless body. Would the White Women come for him or would he die with no dignity? Jink was still biting Basta's ear but he was still holding on just as tight to Dustfinger, who was sruggling like a mouse in a trap, slowly having his life squeezed out. Basta's knife was just as fast to slaughter Jink as it was to Gwin. Dustfinger finally freed himself from Basta's grasp and tripped over to the window without any protection. Basta leaned in close to Dustfinger so he could smell the pepermint on his breath and whispered, like a cat purr, "You will be treated as those filthy martens were by this knife."
Not a second later Dustfinger felt the blade, which was warm with blood slicing his neck, just as it had his cheek. Slowly, to make it more enjoyable for himself, Basta cut the life from Dustfinger and watched him drop to his knees, choking and gasping, until he fell to the ground and rolled over on his back.
Basta watched the life drain from his eyes, as fast as the blood was seeping from his throat, and finally the last breath that he took. Dustfinger would never know why he had come to this house to kill him but he would, always.