Art Sales

“So, you got a name?”

“I’m Heilyn, Contortionist Extraordinaire.”

“Not with those moves,” Scout objected. “Looks like you could work on that tail-grabby thing more. You need some help?” And then she hesitated for a moment before adding, “You know about the life force-draining thing, right?”

Heilyn waved her foot. “Doesn’t bother me too much. I’ve seen worse. Now hop on, and let’s talk things out.”

---

The base of the stand squeaked as it was shoved across the counter, but the sound was lost in the burbling from Gorge’s pots. Finally, the stand and cakes went sailing down—

Right into the bag of holding.

Scout didn’t wait to see them hit. She jumped down, picked up the bag, and rolled towards the door. Rolling was a lot slower than hopping, but she didn’t have too much energy left.

She would need to attach herself to a new host again soon.

A few minutes later, there was an indignant cry from the kitchens. Scout’s thievery had been discovered.

---

"...Why don’t you poke around for a while?”

Scout didn’t need to be told twice. She was brimming with energy again—and curiosity, besides. Being a puppet herself, she was naturally intrigued by the puppets Hobbes deployed. She hopped up the stage steps, passing Hobbes, who turned to watch her go. She ignored him and followed the marionettes as they disappeared backstage.

Here, beyond the heavy velvet curtains, silence dropped like a shroud. Scout looked around, but the marionettes had vanished completely. Had they been strung up from the ceiling? She looked up, but could see only darkness.

And then suddenly, a voice—

“Well, howdy there, and what do I see? Who’s this little critter I spy before me?”