What did he want?

She could hear the sounds coming from his mouth, but she couldn’t understand them. The sounds were distorted fragments, robbed of context or meaning. Even his face … she found it difficult to look at him, to study him long enough to read his expressions. Last night she’d dreamed of the skinless man and his master, that they had taken her down below and changed her again. But maybe it wasn’t a dream. Had she been back in the pit? And if so, what had he done? Had he eaten her memories of language? Could she relearn the meaning of these words if she kept tried hard enough? Or was it her ears? Were her ears still her own, or had they been taken away? What could he want with her ears? How much more would he take before he finally let her die?

The man was still talking. She looked down at him and shook her head. Did he want the skinless man? She put her hand to one of her cheeks and pulled at the skin, miming the action of a blade with the other.

Clearly he couldn’t understand what she was trying to say. She held her fingers up around her mouth and wiggled them, but he didn’t seem to understand that either.

Suddenly he tapped his forehead. A thought? He spoke again, but the words were just as meaningless as before. She shook her head. He beckoned to her, indicating that she should sit down. Gingerly, she did so—she rarely sat during the day.

Why was he doing this? What did he want?

He touched his mouth with his forefinger then made a turning gesture with his thumb and forefinger. She tried to study his face for clues, but as she did all of his features seemed to slip away, leaving her looking at a pure smooth slate. She winced and looked away, and as she did his features reappeared. It had to be her, she thought. One more change. One more thing that they’d taken away from her.

The visitor spoke again. She thought there was a twinge of frustration in his nonsense words, but she couldn’t say for certain. What happened next surprised her. He reached out and touched her face. His hands were soft and gentle, and they slowly drifted across her lips.

“Welcome,” a voice said.

She could understand! She knew these words! Then she saw the fear in the stranger’s eyes and realized who it was that had spoken.

The skinless man had come into the room. His hood was thrown back, revealing the raw muscle that covered his face. “I wasn’t expecting visitors,” he said, “but this is a most welcome surprise.”

The visitor said something in return, but his words were still a chaotic blur of sound.

“I’d be happy to explain,” her master said, slowly moving closer. “But there are better places for it. You’ll come with me, I trust?”

She couldn’t let it happen. She pushed the visitor as hard as she could, and he went staggering for the door. But he seemed to understand, and as soon as he caught his balance he ran.

But it wasn’t enough. The skinless man cracked his arm like a whip, and a tentacle of flesh flew forth from his sleeve. The glistening tendril wrapped around the visitor’s ankles and pulled him to the floor. Her master called out, and one of the claws came through the door. There was a brief struggle, but the outcome was never in doubt.

“Take him below,” her master said.

The claw threw him over her shoulder and carried him off.

The skinless man turned to face her, his mad eyes glittering in their deep sockets. “And you … I suppose I’ll have to think of something new for you.”

His laughter echoed in her ears as he turned to follow the claw.