Fenn did not reply.  He could not even utter a goodbye as he passed through the archway and into the gray daylight of the afternoon.

“HONEY?!”

Pennywick’s anxious cry barely registered in Fenn’s ears as he walked stiffly across the road, past the neighboring stone cottages, and eastward toward the distant Bitter Barrens.

* * *

They came from the Cliffs of Relic.  They came from the Grim Gullies.  They came from all points north and south of Knights’ Manor, riding enormous black steeds, their armor jangling, their weathered, mean faces covered by metal war masks.  They came in groups of two, five, and seven -- raising storm-fronts of dust from the pounding hoofs. 

By midday, they numb...

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