Carnival Souls

Leaving

Lira awoke the next day in a state of nervous anticipation. The same line kept running through her head as though repetition was the key to accepting it.

I'm leaving the carnival.

For a glorious period of time, however long or short it might be, she wouldn't have to stare out her window at the scene that might as well have been a painting for how little it changed. The top of the Ferris Wheel wouldn't obstruct her view of the spirit world beyond and the flickering, buzzing lights wouldn't pour into her window and keep her awake at night. She wouldn't have to listen to the hissing, spitting, babbling, banging noises of spirits and souls that wandered by. And, though she would still have to play, she wouldn't be stealing children from their beds.

The weight that lifted from her shoulders was nearly as good as the feeling of real sunlight on her face the time she was allowed back into the human world during the day. When she had led Owen and his friends from the funhouse.

Lira went to her wardrobe and dressed in her usual clothes, black leggings with a long white tunic belted at the waist, not having anything else to choose from. She had been given a pair of sturdy boots for the trip; it was like strapping weights to her feet after going barefoot for so long.

Regarding herself in the mirror inside the wardrobe's door, she felt strangely older. With shoes that covered her perpetually dirty feet and her hair freshly washed and pulled into a braided bun, Lira actually felt sixteen. She turned her head a bit to the left, the light from her floating lanterns throwing her lilac tattoos into sharp relief. Would they disappear, she wondered, if she were to go home?

If she had never disappeared, what would she look like now? Who would she be?

The questions hurt. They reached down deep and pulled at memories and feelings she didn't want to relive, possibilities she had conditioned herself to no longer consider. Who knew how much more the answers could hurt? With practiced ease, she pushed them away. She would not accept this place as her fate, but she could not afford to embrace hope of the future. Not yet.

Lira turned and grabbed the empty pack by the windowsill. Tucking her violin safely inside, she slung it over her shoulder and made for the door. She would have to see Mitsi for provisions before she met up with Owen and Genzel on the far side of the carnival. With a quick glance down the hall at Atlas's closed door, Lira made her silent way down the stairs and out of the funhouse.

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Lira was out of breath by the time she crested the hill leading to Genzel's cabin having jogged most of the way from the kitchens. Her lower back ached where her now full pack crashed into it with each jolting step. Owen and the old man were talking, their own packs at their feet.

"Sorry," puffed Lira, skidding to a stop beside them.

"You're late," growled Genzel.

"Sorry," she said again. She shifted her pack into a more comfortable position. Owen caught her eye and she nodded.

"No sense wasting any more time," said Genzel. He shouldered his bag and, without another word, started off into the long grass. Owen and Lira exchanged glances, eyebrows raised. The other boy smiled and shrugged as if to say "that's Genzel," and turned to follow him.

Lira didn't know what she expected-a going away party, wishes of good luck, alarms blaring or the appearance of the harpy, or just some acknowledgment of leaving at all, but their departure of the carnival was strangely anti-climactic. Then again, compared with Lira's arrival anything was going to feel that way.

For the first few minutes, as the carnival faded from view behind them, all Lira could do was look around, trying to see what had lain just beyond her grasp all these years. But after craning her head in each direction and seeing nothing but the same fields with the odd boulder or stunted tree, she turned her concentration back to her feet, trying to stamp down her disappointment. She was free of the carnival and Bebinn, and she would not complain about there being nothing to see.

The trio walked on in silence for some time, pushing through the thick grass that reached nearly to Lira's waste.

I hope there aren't spirit snakes or whatever out here.

What she judged to be about two hours into their journey, a bit of the novelty of freedom had worn off. Lira's shoulders were sore from the weight of her backpack and sweat was sliding down her neck and into her collar. Her feet hurt where the boots pinched her toes and her unprotected forearms were chaffing from the coarse grass.

Genzel hadn't said a word since they left, plodding on with unwavering determination. He moved quickly for someone so old. Lira jogged a couple of steps to draw level with Owen.

"How does he know where he's going?" she asked.

Owen shrugged. "He's probably done this so many times he doesn't have to think about it."

"Still kind of weird though. There's no sun or stars to guide him or give him a direction and I don't see a compass or a map."

"Maybe it's a sixth sense?" Owen ventured. "Like a bloodhound with the scent for kelpies?"

"I still wish I knew what he was doing here," muttered Lira. Not for the first time she wondered if they could trust Genzel. What if this was all some kind of trap?

"Jacks seems to think we can trust him," said Owen as though he had read her thoughts.

"And what does Jacks know about it?" she retorted, more harshly than she intended. Owen's shoulders stiffened. "Sorry, it's just-what if this is some kind of test? What if Bebinn is trying to find a reason to get rid of us?"

"I already gave her a reason, remember?" Owen pointed out. "She needs us for whatever it is she is doing behind closed doors. She can punish us sure, but get rid of us?"

"She's done it before," said Lira, thinking of Baleros. She hadn't thought of the other violinist in a long time. Owen didn't seem to hear her.

"I think, at this point, he's the only person we can trust. Even if we don't know his whole story. I mean-we trust each other even though we don't know each other that well, don't we?" he asked, turning to look at Lira. His brown eyes were warm.

Lira realized that despite her misgivings about Owen's decision-making, she did trust him. They were putting their lives in each other's hands after all. Because if their plan didn't work out, they were as good as dead.

"Yes," she said. "We do."

A gruff shout came from up ahead. "Will you two stop having a picnic and keep up! We haven't got all day!"

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Hi everyone! The long weekend threw a bit of a wrench into my updating plans, but here it is! This chapter turned out to be on the long side so it's being split into two. The next chapter will have a different title, but it will still be from Lira's POV.

What did you think of this first part? :)