“The amberstone!” the dog roared. “Where is it?”
“If I said it was up your bottom, would that encourage you to scratch?”
“WHERE IS IT?”
“Just below your tail, obviously, unless you’ve got some sort of syndrome—”
The dog brought his face so close, that Oscar suspected he could see his bottom down the snarling bit in the middle of it.
“Would you like me to have a go?” Oscar said, flailing a paw helpfully. “I’m presuming you’re going to rip it off anyway, so it seems a shame to waste it.”
While they stared at each other, the dog’s growl rose to a whine as need became fervent. When he surrendered to it, Oscar twisted from the animal’s grip and fell to the ground. The remaining Dark Alchemists weren’t as distracted, however, and pounced on him. He was thrown across garbage bins again, bef
