I followed the owl’s trail across the mountain to the land of the Long Divide. As it flew, it spun its head around 360 degrees and looked at me from time to time from above. Sometimes it would vomit the skeletons of littler animals and leave them for me to find, like presents.
The little skeletons could be transformed into puppets if you grabbed the little pieces of ligament and cartilage the owl had wrapped around them. I’d amuse myself beside the campfire with little stage plays made of the little puppets.
Over the mountain’s ridge and into the outskirts of the city, I sometimes felt my feet falling asleep as I walked. I got the sensation I was being watched. I passed by two tiny huts, hidden under the hills by the sides of the road.
“We got em!” someone shouted. “Stay put you little fucker!
One of the villagers caught a ninja.