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There was no sound at first; some wings in the world are utterly silent. But the crowd looked up and found their jeers stifled by terror. The bell that rang out from above was deep and clear and strong–and just like the hooting of an enormous owl.

Longtail’s minions squealing and fled in desperation, and the spell was broken–the Pistachio People found themselves covered in clawing, biting, filthy RATS! The crowd was a hysterical riot, and the executioner too dumbstruck to pull his lever.

Drosselmeier swooped down in his clockwork glider, his eyes like two great and glaring gears.