As the four dejected goblins trudged along the rock-strewn path from the caves, Tulip stared at the iron band around her forearm, her heart guttering like a slowly blown out candle flame.
Gaspard pushed through the crowd. Le Petit was at the mouth of the tent, keeping the cast and crew at bay, though several made attempts to peer in when the wind blew the corner of the tent flap open.
When the night gets long and the house is asleep, I leave out of the back and traverse east through the alleys. I go far east into the next city’s limits, a city tragically renown for crime.