At five in the morning, Semper trudged through the cold mud of the trenches to report his readiness to Featherstone. The Major was still sitting in his dugout, as if he never moved from the place.
“Very well,” Featherstone said when Semper had reported. “Let us see what foul horror you have worked.”
“Yes, sir. If you're sure you want to see.”
“Of course I b****y want to see. Do you think a few dead soldiers trouble me?”
“No, sir. I don't think dead soldiers trouble you at all. But you might not be used to seeing them sit up and walk around.”
Featherstone's eye twitched again. “Are you trying to make a fool of me, Semper?”
“No, sir.” I don't need to try, he very nearly added, but thought better of it.
“Good. Then go and cast your spells now, or whatever it is you do, before the men a
