Two dark figures padded through the numb, dead silence of the bog. Mute trees and vines twisted and braided about them, scrolling horrible green fantasies across the sky, wraiths of absinth gas mutated, all distorted limbs and broken backs, and beckoning with noiseless cackling.
One man stopped, and the other after him, at a solid plot with earth recently disturbed. The man who stopped first probed the ground with his heel, and smiled at his companion. Screams rose through the ground like fiery poppies bursting in the dank mud. They echoed, not like metal, but organically and purely human, vibrating slowly, it seemed, through the chambers of hell.
"For you," he said, still smiling - in his eyes, rather than the glint of cunning, a pearl, a sincere and starlike glimmer.
"Thank you," replied the other. His voice seeped thick and black from his curled lips.