It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. ‘Looks like it. She heard the sounds of Rhea scuttling about, and then feeding, brutally. Never mind, I’ve got plenty. Dese ere not schouts, as you faind, but jonkers on a vrolyk; and if dey'd chanshed to keel de vrow Sheppard's pet lamb, dey'd have done her a servish, by shaving it from dat unpleasant complaint, de hempen fever, with which its laatter days are threatened, and of which its poor vader died.
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