Cold, early winter air thrust itself around her, rushing her words uselessly over him. ‘What… What have you got there?’ she asked nervously.
‘Your simple-minded sentences are becoming annoying.’ he retorted. Then quite suddenly and without warning, he stooped down and gripped her by the throat, and in a Viper’s strike he was on top of her, pinning her down in a dead cradle hold.
She thought she screamed loudly, but heard no sound and air began to dry in her lungs. He struck out at her head, laughing; ‘It’s in your belly!’ he kept on laughing and squeezing her throat even tighter. ‘It’s the sandwiches that you ate, don’t you see, I’ve poisoned you! You only looked upon the powder that was left in my pocket. You are so stupid, you and your lover!’
She heard nothing, choked crazily, trying to swallow that sacred air, to force it into her body. With one hand he pushed her head further to the earth rendering her neck backwards and then a sudden small rush of air entered her collapsing thoat. Another hand smacked her head like it was a toy. She tried to kick out, to force him away, but his strength took her weakness. Her eyes watered and closed and Hinckly Common became no more.