“Get away from the exit!”
“But how will we flee?”
“I won’t walk straight into its open maw!”
“I don’t want to be eaten!”
“Not dinner! Not dinner!”
Was the last cry… Pan’s? Eoin craned his neck toward the ceiling, and he thought he saw a streak of green.
A thud sounded behind him. Eoin whirled, reaching for his gun with one hand and fisting the other. He relaxed a fraction when he spied Hannah.
“Say you’ll capture the bear!” Hannah shouted in his face.
“What?” Eoin asked, his voice sounding distant even to his own ears. His normally fast-paced mind could not keep up with hers. It was clear that she had a plan, but what?
“Quick! Before this throng turns into a completely mindless mob!”
“You want me to catch a bruin? With just my hands? Not even a rope?”
“It’s Pan.”
“What?”
“Pan’s the bear,” Hannah explained. “It’s the only scheme I could devise. Quick! Before it’s too late to calm the crowd.”
Pan was the bear?
“Look up!” Hannah commanded.
Eoin did as he was told. This time, he definitely did catch sight of the rascal. As the feathered menace swept through an opening in one of the precarious supports, it opened its beak. A distinctive roar followed.
Swounds, Hannah was a genius—a reckless and unpredictable genius—yet a genius nonetheless. Eoin had no time, though, to process his growing swell of gratitude and pride. He’d have time to feel impressed by her quick thinking once they were safe and they’d stopped the potential disaster of their own creation.
Already the crowd had begun to jostle toward the exit. The master of ceremonies had disappeared—presumably slinking toward an escape route rather than attempting to quiet the crowd that he’d whipped to the edge of a frenzy. To Eoin’s horror, he saw the boy that he’d helped earlier get knocked to the ground near the lip of the pit.
“I will wrestle the bear back into his cage!” Eoin cried as loudly as he could, the force of his scream already burning his throat.
It was a rather absurd statement, and it felt even more ridiculous by the theatrical way in which Eoin shouted. Mr. Powys, Eoin was not. He definitely should not be treading the boards on any stage.
But his shout worked. Those around him heard, at least.
“The new fighter is going to battle the bear!”
“Let him through!”
“What’s going on?”
“A boxer will take care of the bear! Make way for him!”
“Make way!”
Eoin helped Hannah from the pit before scrambling out himself. He only paused to snatch the scrawny youth around his middle and hoist the boy over his shoulders. Given the lad’s last reaction to Eoin’s help, Eoin was grateful that the youngster didn’t fight him. The adolescent must have realized he’d be crushed otherwise.
Hannah pressed close to Eoin’s side. He wished he could sling his arm around her to add more protection, but he had his hands full. A small gap had opened in the crowd, but Eoin still needed to shoulder their way toward the exit. As news of his promise to contain Ursus spread, a path began to clear. Eoin felt like Moses parting the Red Sea as he strode through the mass of milling men.
In a surprisingly short amount of time, Eoin and Hannah reached the narrow hallway leading to the exit. Eoin angled his body so that he didn’t knock the adolescent’s head or feet against the walls. No one followed.
