my sleeve has dropped back and my bandage has come off as i 've fallen and he 's staring at the band on my arm- the red , infected , sick-looking band with the number 1391 etched onto it- and then i see it- halfway up his own forearm , as scarred and messy as mine- a band reading 1017- and this is todd 's spackle , the one he set free from the mayor 's genocide at the monastery with a band all his own that 's clearly infected him , too- he 's frozen his swing , the blade in the air , ready to fall but not falling , as he stares at my arm- and then a pair of hooves strike him hard in the chest , sending him flying backwards across the clear ground- [ todd ] `` viola ! ''