Creepy Creature dragged branches across the clearing just below the cave mouth. The moon hung low and pale, not yet full. He had until moonrise tomorrow to finish. Every stick had to point toward the town. Every stone had to mark a path down the mountain. When the people saw what he could do, they would have to look up. He worked in silence, placing rocks in a line from the clearing down to where the trees broke open. Three paths. One straight toward the main street where the shops would be dark. One curving toward the houses on the west edge. One leading to the square where they gathered on market days. He counted each stone as he set it down. Forty-seven. Forty-eight. Forty-nine. Tomorrow night, when the moon rose full, he would follow these paths and make noise at every door until they came outside. Until they saw him. Until they were too afraid to look away.