Infante

Lillian thrashed, fought to escape the one-handed grip on her neck and shoulder.  The struggles increased as the Infante lifted her, bringing her to a position where her back was to his chest.  His hand moved to cover her nose and mouth.

“Lord Infante!” Jessie screamed.

“Jamie Lambsbridge,” the Infante said.  He turned slightly, to better face the two girls.  “So to speak.”

“I know-” she started.  The words trailed off.

The angle the Infante stood at gave her a view of Lillian.  She could see Lillian’s continued struggle, and she could see Lillian’s eyes roll back in her head.  Lillian’s throat distended, then distended more, until it threatened to split down the middle, as if an ordinary-sized man was shoving his full arm down her windpipe.  Her body arched, hands clawing at the Infante’s, then at open air.

Lamb 18 III