Something was gained in Ozzy’s departure to the surface world. There was enlightenment to be found under the open sky. He learned that he was not in Hell by classical definition, but an entirely new world with functions far from the norm of what he knew. And he learned that, among skeletons, loyalty and camaraderie seemed to be second-at-best concerns, as he was set upon by the wrath of the gargantuan Marrowbane.

The hulking, walking crypt, made of the fallen remains of countless skeletons, decided that he didn’t like Ozzy, and thus took part in a chase. His huge trunk-like legs stomped across the earth and his massive hanging arms swung from side to side, cleaving through rocks in his path.

Ozzy ran. He realized, against such unrelenting force, he had little choice but to grit his teeth and “KKKKKHHHHH!!!!!” through them in a mad dash for freedom. The wall ahead was his only hope. It was as Hewfarth mentioned. The skeletons were bound by duty. Any who wandered away from the lichyard that still had their sense of respect for Gozzpek would go mindless. And he’d rather risk losing a non-existent respect for his maker than losing his unlife to the gigantic fiend.

Marrowbane did not take Ozzy’s flight as lightly as he took the miniscule skeleton’s presence. The word hero seemed to trigger some immediate violent impulse within him and he was compelled to give chase and ransack the very lichyard he was sent up to protect. Along the way, the other skeletons, all strangers and mangled weirdos, ran from the path of destruction and hid themselves in the green roughage.

Ozzy managed to pull ahead. His desperate sprint gave him speed that edged out Marrowbane’s long, striding legs - but only briefly. Briefly enough that he met the wall of the lichyard and was faced with the grim reality that it was too tall to jump. He tried anyway and made it, surprisingly, high up.

Ozzy paused and tried to measure it.

I’m, what, five-ten? Or was? Am I still? Either way, that’s about a ten foot wall. And I -

He jumped high up. His fingers reached just below the iron-barred rim, too short to grasp.

- can get all the way up there. I guess it’s because -.

There was no more time to think, which was his only apparent talent. Marrowbane was upon him. His great blade dug through the ground in a thrusting motion. Ozzy jumped longways and paddled his feet against the wall to elongate his distance. From that, he felt the impact that he couldn’t see. The great dividing knife stuck into the high wall, but didn’t pierce it. Marrowbane yanked it out. The wall crumbled inward and seemingly patched itself with a new layer of dirt.

“Stop running!” Marrowbane bellowed.

Ozzy defied him and deftly continued to run away. His form was decent. His arms and legs pumped in unison at perfect 90 degree angle bends. He gained so much speed that, when his feet left the ground, it felt like he was floating. All the air passed through him. There was no meat to resist it. He never felt so aerodynamic before.

“What ho, Ozzy!” Hewfarth called out. He, too, was running - in a far sillier manner. His legs pumped rapidly like he was peddling an invisible bike. His one arm pumped back and forth, not up and down, like a rudder in a ship gone mad.

“Where’s the exit!” Ozzy shouted.

“I cannot blame you,” Hewfarth said, “for wanting to brave the woods rather than contest your fate against the mad giant. But fret not! Marrowbane is much simpler than he looks. He detests those he sees that may challenge the authority over the graven masses which he has collected.”

“How do I convince him I’m not a challenge for him?” Ozzy asked.

“Tis simple!” Hewfarth began. “Merely disassemble yourself and allow him to take a part of you. My own arm was sacrifice enough, and I have compensated well without it!”

The pleasantry with which he dispensed his awful story didn’t give Ozzy any hope. It did, at least, explain the necessity of Hewfarth’s design. He couldn’t be a bowman with only one arm, so he became his own bow.

“What if he wants my head?” Ozzy asked.

Hewfarth gave him a look of uncertainty, then turned forward to focus on where he was running. They both heard the rumble of mighty trunk-steps behind them grow faster. Hewfarth veered off in another direction and left Ozzy to run alone.

I don’t want to lose any of my body! It’s all I’ve got left. I literally have nothing but my bones! Not even the skin off my nose! There’s so many analogies I can’t make because of what I do not have!

Ozzy stopped at the trampled earth that made up the only road in the whole yard. He turned and saw Marrowbane on approach. His arm straightened out in a wind up. The thick coil of spines began to twist. He was preparing a swing a whole four dozen yards in advance. To Ozzy’s right was the nearest wall, and what looked like a massive gate. The wall seemed impossible to tear through, even for Marrowbane, but a door would be different. Such a thing was made to be opened.

Ozzy leaned to the left, toward the center of the lichyard, as if he was preparing to run there next. Marrowbane read his movements and swung his mighty suspension arm backwards. He slung it back and began a wide arcing slam that would meet Ozzy just as he started to run away again.

But Ozzy was clever. He was the skeleton with a mind and soul of his own, a power of individuality. He had the edge in terms of tactics. As the mighty giant’s arm swung down, Ozzy turned on his heel and began in a fast sprint the other way. Just then, coincidentally, Hewfarth decided to cast his lot into the mix and a sharp bolt pierced the giant arm mid-swing. This altered its trajectory, and limpened the wrist near where it hit. The mighty blade was sent off course and landed to Ozzy’s right.

Ozzy ran face-first into the blade right as it settled into the ground. Marrowbane followed the swing awkwardly and tripped from the lost momentum. He dove forward and cratered into the ground. Ozzy was thrown back from the combination of smacking into the blade as thick as he was tall and the explosive force of the behemoth’s landing. Dirt flew up high into the air and rained down for a few seconds.

“Jolly good shot, that was!” Hewfarth called out. Ozzy sat up and stared ahead at the patch of reflective metal that stood out from the rusty surface of the greatknife. Just what he’d been looking for, something to see himself with. He crawled up and took in his new face for the first time.

He was a skull. Just as expected. But there was something odd about him. It may have been just a trick of the light, but he seemed to have a small bit of emotion in his eyebrow-region as he tilted his head around. He looked into his eyes, and deep within, he saw the silvery blue light that the stranger below described. It was a cool, gentle light. Blue like a neon sign inviting a wandering soul in for a stay.

And he saw something else as well. A shadowy outline that surrounded him. A phantom memory of the body he once had, he assumed. It felt odd. He recognized his own real face despite having no face on top of his bones. The structure was the same. He was the same - just a skeleton instead of a man.

His mirror - the blade - started to move. Ozzy recalled the imminent danger he was in and shook his head left to right to find a way to go. Marrowbane was recovering by crawling forward. His entire body lay to Ozzy’s left, but it was progressing to stand up to his right. In no time the giant would recover and stand before Ozzy just like before.

“Impudence,” Marrowbane growled with the tenor of a hundred depleted throats. “You are fodder. Fuel. Mass!”

Ozzy was staggered. All his quick thinking had gone to waste, so he had none left to think of something witty to say. The seconds that passed slowly eliminated his ability to escape. His options grew thinner as the goliath rose back to his full stature. Marrowbone got one great trunk-like foot on the ground and began to rise again.

Ozzy stepped back. He calmed down as the giant rose. There was still time to think. There was always time to think. Reacting on sheer impulse just made him shout through his teeth, and that would do him no good. He needed just a fragment of a plan to act on first.

Marrowbane stood and took a long step forward. His legs were situated at either side of the road. His arms dragged along the ground as he straightened his back. That was when Ozzy left. The blades were too far to bring into a full swing. The monstrous body was too slow to swipe at him. Ozzy dashed between Marrowbane’s legs where he heard and felt the rumble of the giant’s inquizitive grunt. Ozzy continued with the rumble of a furious roar behind him.

“What-HO!” Hewfarth exclaimed. He was running along the top of the wall and met Ozzy near the gate.

“How’d you get up there!?” Ozzy exclaimed.

“Mine legs, my chap!” he explained. He stuck out a leg, which Ozzy hadn’t seen or paid much attention to before, at least not enough to notice that it, too, was heavily modified. He had a box-shaped spring-contraption shin, like an old-school car jack. He demonstrated how it could widen out and then snap back to full length, the same bow-string mechanic the rest of his body was assembled to use.

“Can you open the gate?” Ozzy asked.

“Whyever for?” Hewfarth asked.

Ozzy pointed at Marrowbane, who was half-way turned around. Just as he thought, the giant was only good at running forward. His wider-than-tall frame made it hard to make smaller maneuvers. It gave him time, but not much.

“Ah,” Hewfarth said. He crouched down, hand on the iron spikes along the top of the wall, and held out his leg. “Leap up and I shall swing you o’er and yon’ the wall!”

“Okay,” Ozzy said. He got a running start and jumped as high as he could. He easily reached Hewfarth’s leg, grabbed on, and swung himself up onto the ledge. For all that work he felt no exhaustion, not even a bit of staring from pulling himself up. He weighed a scant amount compared to before. They both stood on the wall’s edge as Marrowbane caught sight of them and began another roaring charge.

Ozzy immediately dove down and landed on the other side, near the sprawling dark woods. He turned and held his arms out, to repay the favor and help his guide with his own escape.

Hewfarth shook his head. “My own madness has not yet consumed me,” Hewfarth said, “enough to trial beyond the safety of these walls.”

“But -.”

“May we meet again somehow, sir Ozzy!” Hewfarth said. He dove back to the other side. The stampede of deep, heavy stomps continued to approach. Then, it quietly stopped. Ozzy huddled himself up against the wall, afraid to look up lest he spot the leering head of Marrowbane peeking over the edge for him. No additional shadow grew over the flat edge of the grassy knoll. Nothing intruded on Ozzy’s view of the woods but the woods themselves, and the vast stretch of grey that settled over them.

He was free of the lichyard, for what that mattered. Free of one obligation and thrust unkindly into a new stretch of the harrowing new world. He waited for the trundling steps of Marrowbane to leave before he picked himself up again. Though he had no skin, he felt a chill of dismay. All of his restrictions were gone. He was severed from Gozzpek’s domain, and too weak to re-enter, even if he wanted to.

“And good luck!” he heard from the other side. Hewfarth’s parting words. “May you find some way to become a hero!”

“Th-Thanks!” Ozzy called back. He heard a final Tally-Ho as Hewfarth fled back into the deep reaches of the lichyard. His only friend, of sorts, restricted by one madness and forbidden from entertaining any other. If it was madness that drove Ozzy onward, then he accepted it. After all, it would be mad for anyone to accept a skeleton as their hero….