A Rat on the Back, Part 4
"There's too much Thimblecross for one defender. You protect from the light of the hearth fire, I protect from the shadows."
A.N. Sorensen
The scarecrow crouched in the tree above Tilly, covered in—hopefully—fake gore from his play as he launched himself at her back. Tilly ran, turned, and swung a heavy branch at Jolly, and the scarecrow tumbled into the empty, claw-like arms of late autumn bushes. Tilly crept towards the bushes with her branch raised high. Only when something began clawing at her back did she realize that the strangely writhing coat in the bushes was empty.
Jolly stood behind her, brandishing his gruesome puppets with metal, spiked heads.
"Hold still, Mrs. Greer, and this won't hurt very much," Jolly said. He stepped forward.
"Stay back!" Tilly shouted. She waved her branch. "I don't know what your game is, but tell me what you know about the rat, or I'll play stickball with your head."
"Why are you asking me when you already have the rat?" Jolly asked.