Some Gembound would have turned tail at the strange, twisting tunnel, filled with flora and so winding that Aviatrix could barely see a couple feet down its path.

Luckily—or, perhaps, unluckily for their continued well-being—Aviatrix was not one of those Gembound. They'd been sniffing their way down the tunnel, following the waystones on their continued search for the shiniest of treasures, when they'd stumbled across the path. Lined with ominously clawed trees and bushes a Gembound could disappear in, it looked like a good place to get lost in and never come back from.

So, obviously, it's perfect for an explorer (thief) like them.

And that's what they've been doing for the last five minutes—winding their way in and out of the ominous path, wincing a few times when branches catch on their pelt and leave stinging scrapes behind, but otherwise enraptured by the mysteries of the strangely forested path.

Their ears prick upwards at the sound of distant music. It's strange, and a little off-key—they make a face of displeasure at the sound. It's jovial, sure, and they think they could get used to it, but someone should really tell whoever's playing to get off the instrument.

They bet they could do better than that.

Still, it's a sign that something's down there—what, they have no idea, and the music bears no indication, but that's just another reason for them to quicken their step.

They come out blinking in the sudden colorful light. What was once a jogging pace quickly grinds to a halt—dark eyes snap wide as they take everything in. Weird creatures of varying shapes and sizes walk about, hard at work, dressed in the oddest clothing Aviatrix has ever seen; a riot of lights strung from poles and wired together with something dark stretches above them, providing the source of the color which bathes the place in a phantasmagoric aura.

And silvery mist rolls across the ground, the sight of which makes Aviatrix grin; that's free cover, and it dusts every part of the carnival that they can see. If they weren't already itching for something to steal in this shiny, glittering, crazy place, then the realization that this place is as good of an opportunity as they'll ever get to do some skulking around fills them with mischevious excitement.

Step one of any theft: scope the place out. They scramble over to the nearest worker, standing up on their hind legs to peer out of the mist at them.

"Hey! Hey! Where am I?"

The carny turned, blinking a vaguely fox-like face down at the newest guest. Said face split into a smile, canines glinting.

"Well, hello, guest! Why--you're at the Carnival!" it crooned, and turned to face the lights, standing almost alongside Aviatrix.

"Games and contests and prizes galore. Food and fun and danger! There's a little something for everyone, here... you just have to-" it turned, and winked one gleaming yellow eye "lose yourself in it, a little. I recommend the grilled spider; and oh! I'd start at the balloon-popping stand, if I were you." The grin was somewhere between mischievous and dangerous; light gleamed over its fangs again as it turned back away, to its work.

@Aviatrix

A Carnival? Games? Prizes? Danger?

Say no more.

Or, maybe say a little more, because as exciting as this Carnival's shaping up to be—the thought of grilled spider puts a gleam in their eye. Spider, it says? Crunchy and tasty and… 'grilled'?

They've never had something 'grilled' before. Frankly, they don't know what a 'grilled' is.

But there's no time like the present to try, right? And maybe if they get away with their little spider-heist, they can try the carny's recommendation. Balloon-popping. How hard can it be?

They aim a lingering grin at the carny's back as it turns to go. Oh, they're going to have so much fun here!

They focus an idle whisper of magic as they crouch low to the ground, sniffing; once they catch the scent of something vaguely food-like through the fog and other, myriad smells, they forge on ahead, hoping the magic will catch what they can't conceal with slinking movements alone.

To the spiders!

Carnival music flooded the air--a mixture of cheerful and somehow sinister, a promise of fun and darkness lurking just beneath. The scents of food grew stronger, and all around Aviatrix were the flashes of impish grins, the color and movement of carnies working their booths and games, the flick and snap of brightly-hued flags in the warm air.

Magic seemed to flood the atmosphere, here.

The scent of meat led Aviatrix to the booth selling various grilled foods, run by a female carny calling out her advertisements. "GET YER MEATS HERE! GRILLED SPIDERS, MICE AND FISH! CHEAP TRADES! WILL TRADE FOR ANYTHING!" she was calling, over the cry of other Carnies. Within her booth roared a small fire, metal racks placed over it; here cooked a number of Lessers. Big, fat rats; little mice. A fish or two. And plenty of bristly cave spiders. "THE HAIRS ADD FLAVOR!" the carny was calling out, to no one in particular, her back to Aviatrix. Their little exoskeletal bodies curled in slowly as the heat took them.

To one side--Aviatrix's side--was a bucket of big, bristled spiders on sticks, battered and fried and then grilled to a crispy (yet disgusting) shine. To the other was a large cage full of spiders, fastened with a simple latch.

All of the spiders were small, young Deer Spiders: maybe a foot or two across, half the size of adults. All of them, too, were huddled at the back of the cage, staring motionlessly with large and glossy eyes at the grill and the spiders-on-a-stick beyond. Surely they weren't intelligent enough to understand their fates-? The way they clung to one another, mandibles slowly twitching, suggested maybe they did.

But they sure smelled tasty when cooked!

@Aviatrix