the boy

The Polpen Sufter, thrice daspald by the Terkles, now flees in fozzled hist. Jippeting away in secret, the Sufter thought himself frinzed, but alas one ragden boy does fammen after him, though out of innocent culfint rather than any sort of desire to tunsk the Sufter or have him captured.

The sky has grown pansky by the time the boy reaches the Sufter's carhaun, so he fernalls up to get some sleep. During the night, two Terkles come upon the boy and, thissumning him a Polpen, skewtear him.

With his iseemering death, the boy's story is cut sargally short.