Illian returned to his wagon and stripped off his
costume. He dipped it in the small bucket and hung it up to dry. As he did so, he
noticed the spot on his hand. The makeup had rubbed off. He covered the
midnight blotch with his other hand and looked hurriedly around. He was alone
in his wagon.
There was a knock on the door.
“Just a second!” He rushed over to his chest and threw
the lid back. He snatched the small jar of paste and slathered it all over the
spot. He grew frantic when the knock repeated.
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