Inkblood
Disclaimer: Inkheart belongs to Cornelia Funke. Not me.
II
"It was you fault!" he wanted to scream at Silvertongue. "You did this!"
Dustfinger didn´t feel well. This world was making him sick.
The water tasted like acid, the air seemed poisonous, and he felt so alone here.
At least he had still Gwin. If he wouldn´t have had the horned marten he would have gone mad some time ago. But..what if he was mad? What, if he just believed he was Dustfinger? What if he was just a lunatic thinking to be a novel figure...
When he thought of it...he couldn´t be just a character from a novel. That couldn´t be.
And surely no one had read him out.
Maybe he was sick...maybe he was mad...maybe none of this was real
Not more real than this bottle of ink.
Am I ink? Or am I insane?
Right now, he was too confused to say which one was the better option...