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((Triple Monday -- Page 2 of 3))
Another question occurred to Hector. ‘By the way, uh... why do you--I mean, er, why do you guys all have such weird names?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘It’s just, uh. Y’know. Garovel isn’t exactly a normal name...’

‘When I was alive, it was.’

‘Yeah, but you just said that most reapers aren’t as old as you,’ said Hector. ‘But every reaper I’ve met so far has a weird name like yours.’

‘Ah. You’re wondering why you haven’t encountered a reaper with the name “Jeff” or “Bill” yet?’

‘More or less, yeah.’

‘A few of those exist. The main issue, though, is that it’s just very rare to meet a reaper who was born less than five hundred years ago.’

‘What about Bohwanox? Wasn’t he pretty young? Compared to you, at least?’

‘Yeah. He was a curious one. Having a name like that but not the age to go with it is definitely odd. But I suspect it means that, rather than being old himself, Bohwanox was born in an “old place,” so to speak.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He was probably born in one of the very few reaper enclaves in the world.’

Hector wanted to ask more about that, but he couldn’t formulate a coherent question before Garovel kept talking.

‘Places like that are EXTREMELY traditional. And very wary of outsiders. So much so, in fact, that I can’t even tell you where one of them is right now. I used to know, but they moved, as they often do. They tend to believe that a nomadic lifestyle is the easiest way to keep themselves hidden in the long-term. And they might be right.’

‘...Why do they want to hide themselves?’

‘Because there are a lot of dangerous people who would probably like to get their hands on a “reaper breeding ground,” as it were.’

‘Hmm.’

‘And you think Bohwanox was one of those reapers?’

‘Probably. No idea why he would have left his community, though. Boredom, maybe. He didn’t seem like he had anything in particular that he was trying to accomplish, outside of just reaping souls. Ah, maybe it was a sense of duty that drove him out into the world.’

It sounded like Garovel had more to say, but abruptly, Hector could sense a new air flow through the rock ahead of them.

“We’re almost to the other side,” said Hector.

Zeff stopped, but only briefly. His pace seemed to increase even more, though Hector wouldn’t have thought that even possible a few moments ago.

Sure enough, the last chunk of rock slid free, and rather than pushing it all the way back through the tunnel, Zeff shoved it forward and outward.

Finally, their digging had reached its end, and Hector completed the last bit of the tunnel while Zeff stepped out to shine his lamplight around.