Out of rocks, but not out of anger, Wolfwood was just about to get up to find another pile when the impossible happened. First, one of the rocks he’d thrown knocked itself against that big boulder -- and while he could dismiss one time as being the wind or whatever, three knocks was something different! Three knocks was somebody knocking, that was intentional. And then, if that wasn’t enough to get his attention, the fucking rock came flying right at him, landing at his feet! Wolfwood scrambled back to get away from the somehow living rock, but after a few seconds when it didn’t move any further, he cautiously advanced on it. And that’s when he saw the letters, and fell to his knees.

“Livio?”

Of all the ghosts he thought he’d meet here! Also, shit, if he’d needed proof he was dead -- or near enough -- here it was, with him talking with a goddamn ghost. Wolfwood reached out one shaking hand, and traced the L of Livio, just like he used to show the living Livio how to make his letters, so many years ago.

“Why did you follow me?” He’d always been more comfortable with anger than with sorrow, and so the question came out as a furious snarl, but the tears welling up in his eyes made his tone a liar. “How stupid did you have to be to go with those fucking cultists on your own? Didn’t I teach you anything?”

An abrupt slap of his hand wiped out the mocking OK, and Wolfwood scribbled the truth beneath: D E A D.

“You’re not okay, idiot. That blue haired asshole shot you in the head. You’re dead.” And while dead might be preferable to being in the Eye’s employ -- a thought Wolfwood had certainly had more than once -- it was still a long ways from okay. “I couldn’t keep you safe. You’re dead.”