21
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Toby mumbled and then, shuddering awake, blinked at a canvas ceiling.
Where am I?
The glow of moonlight through cotton reminded him he was at The Winter Freak Show. Stella had offered him and Violet a yurt of their own. Already the cold fingers of the bad dream he had been wrestling with had released his mind and he struggled to remember what made it so scary. The images were gone but the fear remained.
Rolling onto his side, he stared at Violet. She was asleep, bundled in a nest of woolly blankets four feet away. Her nose wrinkled, her crackling breath vaporising in the cold air. Beside her bed, her satchel lay open, several full vials protruding from the gaping, leather mouth.
Just a dream, Toby thought. We’re safe.
Shadows of the lookouts huddled next to the main bonf
