There was almost no sand left in the top bulb. The last seconds of Gaspode's life hissed from the future to the past.
And then there were none at all.
Death stood up.
COME, GASPODE.
There was a faint noise. It sounded like the audible equivalent of a twinkle.
Golden sparks filled the hourglass.
The sand flowed backwards.
Death grinned.
And then, where he had been, there was a triangle of brilliant light.
'Good boy Laddie!'
'There he are! Told you I hear barking!' said the voice of Rock. 'Good boy! Here, boy!'
'Cor, am I glad to see you?' Gaspode began. The trolls clustering around the opening paid him no attention at all. Rock heaved the pillar aside and gently lifted Laddie up.
'Nothing wrong that time won't heal,' he said.
'Can we eat it now?' said a troll above him.
'You defective or something? This one heroic dog!'
'-'scuse me?'
'Good boy Laddie!'
Rock handed up the dog and climbed out of the hole.
'-'scuse me?' Gaspode croaked after him.
He heard a distant cheer.
After a while, since there didn't seem to be much of an alternative, he crawled painfully up the sloping pillar and managed to drag himself out on to the rubble.
No one was around.
He had a drink out of a puddle.
He stood up, testing the injured leg.
It'd do.
And finally, he swore.
'Woof, woof, woof!'
He paused. That wasn't right.
He tried again.
'Woof!'
He looked around . . .
. . . and colour drained out of the world, returning it to a state of blessed blacks and whites.
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