Giggling. It filled the air as deft, quick fingers tugged at the restraints. Something flopped forward off the wheel and four pairs of hands caught it, more giggling filling the air. The hands repositioned themselves on the object as they removed it from the wheel and into the darker depths of a tent. None of them saw the figure standing in the shadows, the light catching her cracked, porcelain face.
The giggling Woe-maidens deposited their load in the center ring. Wick curled her fingers around the blade and pulled it from Tamara's chest. The girl's lifeless green eyes stared blankly up at the canopy of the tent, seeing nothing. The other Woe-maidens poked at the girl's body, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction. The Frog didn't move. Quiet footsteps filled the silent tent and the Woe-maidens looked up to see the Painted Doll approach. With a jerk of her head, the Painted Doll told Wick and her Woe-maidens to leave. The girls bounded from the tent, leaving whispers and giggle in their wake.
Painted approached the dead girl. Crouching down to the body, she arranged the girl's clothes and body into a more appropriate manner; the Woe-maidens had left her sprawled on the dirt floor when they'd brought Tamara in. She stayed in her crouched position, her mismatched eyes roaming over the girl's body. Jealous she was, assuming the frog was going to steal her Scorpion. In fact, Painted was the one who'd suggested the setup for the girl's demise. No one was going to take her Scorpion away. No one. She ran a finger down the girl's cheek.
"How quickly we forget the sting, my love," she said quietly.
After a few more moments, the Doll rose and left the tent, her heels clicking loudly into the absolute silence. The lights suddenly flashed off, save for a single spotlight illuminating Tamara. The tent remind empty for quite some time. A hand suddenly reached to caress Tamara's face. A single claw raked down the same cheek Painted had touched earlier.
"My dear, dear frog," a deep voice spoke. "You trusted to easily and look where it got you; stung, yet again, by another Scorpion. Will you ever learn?" The red fingers brushed the glossy brown hair almost tenderly before retreating into the darkness.
On the stands surrounding the center ring, a flash of orange burned briefly before vanishing quickly. The soft sound of someone pushing air through their lips followed. A click and a knife flew through the air and landed near Tamara's body, the tip buried into the soft dirt. Amused laughter filled the tent, growing louder and louder with each breath.
Almost mockingly, a voice sang, "Trust me, trust me, darling dear…" before filling with laughter again.
The frog's fingers twitched…