Page 16 - Fables volume 2

Trembling he stared at his masterpiece, almost as glassy-eyed.
Then, with acute clarity, he saw that no artifice could restore life—or
even its semblance—to the creature, any more than a cure was
awaiting him at the nearest emergency room. But his remains would
soon be ash; the armadillo, robust in petrified splendor, could last for
decades before degrading. And then he knew what he had to do.
Gathering his last reserves of energy and technique, forcing stillness
on his twitching fingers and chattering teeth, he refashioned the eyes
and mouth of his subject into a likeness of his own, very
characteristic sour, sneering smirk. To anyone acquainted with Fausto
Tannenbaum, the expression on the giant armadillo’s face would
immediately evoke the image of its creator.

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