He sat up, looked around at his surroundings, and said “Sweeties.”
“Excuse me?” said his maker.
“Me want sweeties. Me hungry. Want Golemballs. Chocolate ones.”
This was his very first suppressed memory coming to the fore. His creator had gotten Flug's head from a pillaged coffin, not knowing exactly where it had come from or anything about the person it was attached to (a rookie mistake of ever there was one, but then there's no real guidelines to this sort of work, you kind of make it up as you go along. You can't exactly switch on the telly and watch Bodies Under the Hammer, or Mastersnatcher in the hope that they'll provide some handy hints).
In actual fact, the head had belonged to one Ardent Schnitzel, a famous confectioner who'd died when he'd fallen into his coconut toadstool mi
