I am a circus girl. A freak by nature, a preformed at heart. I travel the world with other people like me. There are people who can run really fast, there are women with beards, conjoined twins, and fortune tellers. To all appearance we are as normal as a circus can be. Except for our ringmaster. He, too, seems normal. He is two meters tall, he wears a long jacket reminiscent of World War Two, and he has an American accent though he claims to have lived here for the past 40 years. You may be wondering what's abnormal about him-he is flawless. He never gets sick and he never has any wounds. The whole company had a terrible flu once, but he went around trying to heal us while he stayed right as rain. Most of our troop seems wary of him and avoid him, but I seek him out. After all, he found me and raised me as his own.

I suppose my parents had a good reason for abandoning me. I guess I frightened them when I was first born. It's not everyday your child breathes fire. I didn't breathe fire at first, it was more like smoke, then some sparks mixed in. I'm sure my parents were terrified when their cute baby girl breathed out thick smoke with every exhalation. Some law probably prohibited them from abandoning me for at least three weeks. That was the age I was when Jack found me. I'm told he had gone out to the river in the forest to bathe. Then he saw some puffs of smoke rising nearby. Curiosity sparked, he finished his bath and found me. They say he walked back into the camp and people actually flocked to him to see what he brought back. Fast forward to now I can breathe full blown flames but most of the time it is only a showering of sparks to accompany my speech. Jack helped me control this ability. For some reason he didn't seem phased by it.

Yesterday we performed in Inverness. The people were friendly and enjoyed the show. We all thought it was a good show too. Afterwards I went back to my tent to change out of the annoying leotard the costumers made me wear. As I was going to enter my tent I heard noises coming from Jack's tent. I paused, Jack always stayed with the guys and celebrated after every show. I walked over to his tent and knocked on the pole before walking in. Jack had, as usual, quickly changed his ringmaster's cat for his normal one and slapped his wristband on. He stopped his pacing when he saw me.

"Yes?" he asked me.

"I noticed you weren't out celebrating with the guys. I wondered if something was wrong." I watched his features closely. Now he would try to lie to me.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied. "I am only feeling slightly tired." He looked at his wristband.

"Liar," I called his bluff right away. "You've checked your wristband twice since I've been in here and you only do that when you are worried. And then within a day something bad happens nearby."

"OK you caught me," he said. "But I am not telling you. I don't want to endanger you."

"Are we really playing this game again?" Every time there was some circus secret or a little trick he learned for the show he made a game of pretending he wasn't going to tell me. "You know full well that you will give in and tell me." He frowned. "Just like the trick to making Amelia disappear in the flash of light."

"Ok, I suppose we can skip the fun bickering," he sighed as he sat down on his cot and motioned for me to sit next to him. "There is another traveling show called the Night Travellers. They only perform in the dead of night when the moon does not shine. All over England there have been whispers of the Night Travellers stealing peoples' last breath. Literally, they take your last breath out of your mouth and keep it in a silver flask. Unless you get that breath back, your body loses all of its moisture and you lie there not quite dead. They steal children from their families and take them into their circus. I have been assigned to investigate them without arousing suspicions. So I joined a traveling show. Eventually most people in the show grew old and I moved up the ranks to ringmaster. Investigating became easier then. I could choose where to go and how long to stay in a certain place. I also knew that if I disappeared for a few hours there would be no one to question it."

"So what have you learned about the Night Travellers?" I asked.

"Basically only what I just told you. We can't find any motive behind it and there seems to be no pattern to where they strike." Jack sighed, disappointed in his lack of information.

"And why are you worried now? Are they here?"

"Yes." His eyes and mine locked. I quickly looked away, his eyes scared me. They were too old. He stood up. "I must find out why they steal the last breaths of people. It is my job and this is my first opportunity." I stood up too.

"I'm coming with you," I was determined to follow him.

"No." He spoke that one word with so much authority I sat back down. As soon as I realized I had sat down, I got back up and followed him to his closet. "Why not?"

"Too dangerous." He pulled out his shotguns and holstered them.

"I've faced danger before"

"Not this bad." He grabbed a throwing knife and sheathed it.

"Always a first time."

"And sometimes that ends up being the last." He pulled out other things I didn't recognize and put those away too. That was one argument I couldn't counter. But I had one last hope.

"At least tell me how long you plan to be gone and around where you're going so I can tell the others if they ask-because you know they will." I folded my arms across my chest. He looked at me trying to see if there was an ulterior motive there.

"I am heading in toward Calderdale and I shouldn't be gone for more than three hours. If I am gone for more than 4 hours-worry."

At eight o'clock I started to worry. I was two hours ahead of schedule. And as if on cue, I heard a boom shatter the silence of the night. I immediately thought of Jack. I ran outside and looked toward the town as another explosion lit up the sky. That's it, I thought. I'm going to find him. I scribbled a note on my bed in case one of my friends came looking for me then I went to the stables. I took my horse, Fuego, and left the circus behind. I arrived in the town to hear gunshots being fired in rapid succession. I dismounted and climbed up onto a nearby building. Crouching down I surveyed the small town, spotting Jack on the ground. I freaked out, thinking he was dead. I climbed down the building and ran over to him. He was lying on the ground with his eyes closed. But I stopped short because there was a man crouching over him with a silver flask in his hand. Jack was going to get his last breath taken! The other man bent over him and uncorked the flask. Putting it to Jack's lips, a silvery stream of breath began pouring out into the flask. No, I could not let this happen to Jack. I yelled at the man and ran at him. I had no plan. I just ran into him, knocking him over. He dropped the flask and I lunged for it. So did he. I got mad and shot flames at his hands. He growled in surprise and yanked his hand back. I snatched up the bottle and used my thumb to cover the opening. The other man came back at me. He leaped for the bottle but I rolled away, spitting fire at him again. I managed to scorch his funny mustache too. I kicked him hard on the back of his head and knocked him out. Before he could get back up again I went back to Jack. And sat there. He didn't tell me how to give the breath back. I moaned, "What do I do?" And to prompt my brain I began talking to myself.

"Ok, start at the beginning. The man takes your breath by holding the flask to your lips. But does it need some special word to work? Do you need to hold it a certain way?" I didn't have the answers to that.

"No." Obviously I was tired. I thought Jack had spoken. But he couldn't have-all the moisture had been robbed from his body. But then I glanced at him. His eyes were open and he had propped himself up on one elbow. "There is nothing special needed. Just hold the flask up to my lips." I did as he said and removed my thumb from the opening. The silvery stream of breath I had seen earlier flowed back into his mouth. Jack breathed in deeply and coughed a few times.

"Did it work?" I asked nervously. "Nothing seems different."

"That's because the only difference it made to me is something you can't see," he said. "But I can feel it so thank you Sara." The man groaned and tried to move. Jack pulled out his gun and shot him in the head.

"Why weren't you 'just laying there not quite dead' as you put it?" Something didn't add up.

"Are you disappointed?" he said with a frown.

"No," I laughed. "I am only looking to know more."

"Like you, I am different. Unlike you, I don't fully understand how I am different." He sat up completely now and sat across from me. "As far as I knew, I should've been lying here nearly dead. I knew of nothing that would give any different indication. I still don't know-"

"But you have theories." I finished for him. We laughed. That was what he always said when he wasn't going to say any more on the matter. I guess I would never learn what makes Jack special.