Twix peers up at the flying, glittering thing in the sky for a moment, then turns to his companions. "What sort of thing do you figure that is? I know every kind of bird that ever roosted within ten miles of Monticello, but I ain't never seen anything that glittered."
The Coldlander simply grunts in reply, but Gepetto's face spits in a wicked leer. "Maybe it's your virtue. It must have flown off after what happened while you were unconscious back there."
Twix spits out "if that's so, then your peter must be thinner than a toothpick, for all that I'm walkin' normal." Still, he takes a step farther away from the boy with the rough hands and mad gleam.
"Well," he says, " whatever it is, I hope it hasn't taken a interest in these crates." He picks up a hand sized rock and begins to batter at the nearest crate.
