Ring around the Rosie
#2
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     There was something terrible in the air. Ahren could sense it, as he had sensed Matinee not all that long ago. It smelled like disease and tasted like atomic fusion. He had come here house ago and fallen asleep in the peak of a thunderstorm, smothered by the sound of rain. What had woken him was the noise that begun not all that long ago—a scratching desperation that dragged him from the dream world and made his eyes snap open. For over half an hour he had watched the boy, a three-legged figure that was remarkably familiar. Realization dawned on him in that growling voice; the boy looked like Hollow. Seemed like he was taking after him as well.
     “Most of them are,” he said suddenly, very clearly. Like the ghost of the shop keeper he stood behind the counter, leaning on it and studying the ruined toys will dull interest. The crossbow was still on the floor, but his eyepatch was doing well to hide the ruined eye. The thickly dust coated glass case did the same for the knife on his side, and the accompanying cargo shorts.






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