[There is something else Tim has, although he may not yet know it.
Tim Wright has a clown.
Karako spent night after night cleansing the Denny's shadowed perimetre against grimlings and lufkin, exhausting himself so much by the end that he just sort of slept through any major happenings he was supposed to notice. (He definitely slept through any later festivities.)
The Denny was rare shelter, both for him and for others who had been both generous and friendly to him, and while the night's regular assaults had receded, he'd stuck around its general periphery. You know, just in case.
And apparently that was the right thing to do.
So Tim starts to jog at the rolling abomination of limbs and maws, eyes and flesh, and something comes out of the woods, not quite adjacent to him--
Something small and grey, with horns half its height and a knife in each hand. With such short legs, though, it's not jogging. It's running.
There is a small clown running at the fustercluck with knives.
no subject
Tim Wright has a clown.
Karako spent night after night cleansing the Denny's shadowed perimetre against grimlings and lufkin, exhausting himself so much by the end that he just sort of slept through any major happenings he was supposed to notice. (He definitely slept through any later festivities.)
The Denny was rare shelter, both for him and for others who had been both generous and friendly to him, and while the night's regular assaults had receded, he'd stuck around its general periphery. You know, just in case.
And apparently that was the right thing to do.
So Tim starts to jog at the rolling abomination of limbs and maws, eyes and flesh, and something comes out of the woods, not quite adjacent to him--
Something small and grey, with horns half its height and a knife in each hand. With such short legs, though, it's not jogging. It's running.
There is a small clown running at the fustercluck with knives.
Oh, and it's saying something.]
HONK!!