Excerpt: Syphon

It is odd how closely misfortune is tied to shovels. Or, at least, it was odd to Liam who in his short life had been hit, cut and tripped by more shovels by the time he was ten than most people, save hot-headed gardeners, would ever be in their lifetimes. This time, though, his involvement with the shovel at hand was not the result of his bad luck, not directly. On this night, Liam was digging a grave.

There was not much left of Cure, technically there was nothing. Despite Ramsey's suggestion to wait until the dragon was “done with him,” Liam snuck out of the manor hours after he lost his best friend. He only needed a hole deep enough for the dog's greyed collar, but Liam dug deeper, though the only graverobbers Liam worried about were the other dogs who might misinterpret Cure's “remains” as a new toy. Rise had quickly restrained his guardian, its eyes dulled and the fleshy crunching sound coming from its mouth ceased as it swallowed. Rise apologized indifferently; Liam's father, accepted, admonishing Liam for bringing the dingy white dog to the garden. Liam stared at his father, not yet ready to cry, though the hand seized around Cure's collar shook. Liam was not angry nor upset, he did not feel anything yet. Taking advantage of his momentary numbness, he bowed his head and apologized to his father, and Rise, as he knew it was expected of him, before excusing himself.