ETRIAL BOOOKKer breath as she adjusted the runes carved into the wooden legs she was making for him. Frustration clung to her like a second skin. El Ritch didn't dare disturb her.
'Not that I even could.'
'I think... if I go too long like this, I'll forget the taste of food.'
The fox shifted, opening one eye. "Why would you even want to eat? Your body is made of wood and runes. You're practically immortal."
El Ritch's nonexistent brow twitched. That was not the answer he wanted.
'I was dead. Now I'm alive,' he thought. 'Grateful or not, I'm not the same. I never will be. What do you mean I'm immortal? If I can't feel anything—if I can't touch, taste, or smell—how am I supposed to live?'
The words clawed at the edge of his mind.
'I might as well be a dead man.'
The fox blinked at him, her amber eyes gleaming. Then she shrugged—or whatever the fox equivalent of a shrug was—curling into herself again. "You asked, I answered. If you don't like it, don't talk to me."
