Baldrick scratches his ear with dirty fingernails. "They're going to eat me, sir?"
"They eat brains, Baldrick," Edmund snaps. "You've got nothing to worry about." Still easy to snark under pressure, and Edmund is briefly comforted. He chugs a gulp from the brandy stolen from the general's tent.
"Lt. George is coming back." Baldrick trembles, a limp ragdoll clutching his empy rifle close. "Oh, he don't look good, sir. Suppose he's one of 'em now?"
Edmund swallows more liquid fire. Sometimes he wishes for only the stench of Baldrick's underarm during summer rather than the smell of the dead outside.
"They eat brains, Baldrick," Edmund snaps. "You've got nothing to worry about." Still easy to snark under pressure, and Edmund is briefly comforted. He chugs a gulp from the brandy stolen from the general's tent.
"Lt. George is coming back." Baldrick trembles, a limp ragdoll clutching his empy rifle close. "Oh, he don't look good, sir. Suppose he's one of 'em now?"
Edmund swallows more liquid fire. Sometimes he wishes for only the stench of Baldrick's underarm during summer rather than the smell of the dead outside.