Мор - ученик смерти

           Morthelpedherthroughthedriftsandbrushedasmuchsnowaspossibleoffthewood.Theysatdownwiththehourglassbetweenthem.Whatevertheviewmighthavebeeninthesummer,itnowconsistedofblackrocksagainstaskyfromwhichlittleflakesofsnowwerenowtumbling.

           ’Ican’tbelieveallthis,’saidMort.’Imeanyousoundasifyouwanttodie.’

           ’There’ssomethingsIshallmiss,’shesaid.’Butitgetsthin,youknow.Life,I’mreferringto.Youcan’ttrustyourownbodyanymore,andit’stimetomoveon.Ireckonit’sabouttimeItriedsomethingelse.Didhetellyoumagicalfolkcanseehimallthetime?’

           ’No,’saidMort,inaccurately.

           ’Well,wecan.’

           ’Hedoesn’tlikewizardsandwitchesmuch,’Mortvolunteered.

           ’Nobodylikesasmartass,’shesaidwithsomesatisfaction.’Wegivehimtrouble,yousee.Priestsdon’t,sohelikespriests.’

           ’He’sneversaid,’saidMort.

           ’Ah.They’realwaystellingfolkhowmuchbetterit’sgoingtobewhenthey’redead.Wetellthemitcouldbeprettygoodrighthereifonlythey’dputtheirmindstoit.’

           Morthesitated.Hewantedtosay:you’rewrong,he’snotlikethatatall,hedoesn’tcareifpeoplearegoodorbadsolongasthey’repunctual.Andkindtocats,headded.