It was such a strange feeling, not being able to get enough air. It was vaguely familiar in the same way that seeing old acquaintances from years ago was vaguely familiar, but it was new enough that Skulduggery could feel a genuine panic bubbling up. A small and detached part of himself experienced it all with a calm and cold intellectual interest, noting how the edges of his vision were starting to fade and his head was starting to feel light. Anything the Once-ler was saying got lost in the haze.

And then, finally, something large and filthy dislodged itself from his throat. And for what felt like the third time in just days, Skulduggery gulped down the fresh air with an infuriating gratitude that, once again, his fragile life had been spared.

After a few moments to make sure breathing had become second nature again, Skulduggery - with some difficulty - spat out whatever had made its way into his mouth, and... stared down at it in disgust.

It was a large hairball, of the exact same hair that had surrounded and nearly choked him to death the night before.

"Please," he almost pleaded with the Once-ler, "tell me this isn't normal."