"Describe!" Val calls back. They are not so far apart, but the peculiar muffling is doing its work, necessitating him to shred his very throat to communicate. For he refuses to concede or surrender to its muffling effect. His pencil scratches over the fresh page, making note of the wounds that his unwitting assistant has now uncovered by moving the body--shading in the discoloration of the clothes--trying to convey the peculiarity of the skin that he can see from where he sits. This last one is difficult in particular to draw. He settles for jotting in a note, marginalia notations like macabre stage directions. Enter Corpse, Burned and Mummified, Feeling Wrong.