The word is[i] countdown.[/i]

Painted faces watch their every move. Painted minds judge their every sin. Paths clear one moment, only to suddenly fill with hideous bands wielding unfathomable instruments playing a respectable rendition of Pop Goes the Weasel, almost drowning out the screams of the weasel. Everywhere she looked, Jackdaw saw only danger, and danger that had yet to appear. No rhyme, no reason, no patterns, no timing, no matter how hard she looked or how hard she tried to hold the entire carnival in her head at once. They had to go. They had to go [i]now.[/i]

“Hey!”


Jackdaw waved her arms furiously. Had to keep her attention. Focus on her, Wolf, focus on her!

“...no clowns?”

She pointed to the mirror house. And kept pointing. And kept pointing. Oh please let this work let this work let this work

“No...hunters?”

Yes! No other hunters! You’d be the only one! All the food there, yours! No one would bother you! Safe! Good! Go now? Please???