ii) Fassn blinks, scratches his beard, sneezes again

Fassn blinks, scratches his beard, sneezes again.
“Sneeze dust,” Abia murmurs. “Call nightpig.”
Wiping his face with an oily sleeve, Fassn says, “I’ll smoke the damn thing’s tusks in the name of Old Ajralan.”
Shyan hisses for silence, but Fassn ignores her. “Old Ajralan,” he says to the thick, oppressive darkness. “You’d love to smoke a little nightpig, wouldn’t ya?”
No obvious reply came. “Well, I know I would,” Fassn adds. “Wanna salute Old Ajralan, eh, Cang?” he says, but when he turns, he find a short, empty space where his friend had just been.

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