And while a pile of bones buried beneath two feet of earth is seldom thought of as being on the move, that is exactly what this particular pile of bones was doing, having made their arrangement with the hermit’s unsuspecting dog, who each morning dropped another one of them off at the hermit’s door, covered in fresh saliva.
This reminds me quite a lot of Terry Pratchett and his Death character for some reason. I think it’s the level of humour. Like it, made me laugh!