12
If it wasn’t for Alaric’s hand full of fire, we might’ve tripped right over Malik.
Instead we stop at the exact same moment, surveying his body. He looks smaller in death. All the fluff has gone out of his bedraggled fur coat. He looks like a housecat that just took a bath they never asked for… one that was their last. I kneel beside him and pet his head, even though I’m pretty sure he would’ve hated that.
“He’s still got his lion-cloth on,” I say to Alaric.
“You mean loincloth,” he corrects.
“No, I mean lion. He’s a lion and it covered his private lion bits.” Reaching down, I carefully detach his key. After a moment of hesitation, I hand it to Alaric. “Two for me. Two for you. This way if one of us goes down, whoever gets us won’t get all the keys.”
“Good point,” he says, nodding
