The gesture ushers another little alarmed sound out of Maurice and he shakes himself. That gesture was so...familiar. In this unfamiliar situation. The colors and warped flesh and cloth all melded together in his vision as it blurred from hunger. But then another detail snapped into crystal clarity and that was the tiny lil glasses perched on the naga's nose.

So normal.

So out of place.

Just some fucko in glasses eatin' a dude in the woods. Just like Jhonez cooly adjusting his stupid glasses on public television as though he hadn't stabbed Maurice eight times. Some hair thin filament somewhere inside Maurice broke in two with a delicate ping sound.

In a fluid motion, Maurice whipped out a green arm, wrapped his fingers around the point of a cypress knee, and snapped it off to form a long, cruel club.