The mucker came into Jean-Claude’s stall with rake and broom. He scraped out the foul old straw and tossed in fresh. He never even looked at Jean-Claude. At last he turned his back.

Jean-Claude pulled off his collar and rose. It was supposed to be one smooth motion, but his back creaked, his knees locked, and it turned into an awkward lurch. The aeronaut turned, dropped his rake and bucket with a clatter, and raised his hands, but then Jean-Claude was on him. He cast his noose over the man’s head and around his neck, then kicked the mucker’s feet out from under him. The aeronaut hit the end of the cord like a snared rabbit. His nascent cry collapsed with his windpipe. Jean-Claude kneeled on his throat and kept the line taut. The man bucked and thrashed, bludgeoning Jean-Claude about the thighs and groin. Jean-Claude flicked his gaze to the manger’s entrance. He could hear nothing over the thundering of his own blood, and his heart felt ready to burst, but no shadow crossed the light.

At last the struggling ceased. Man became corpse. Jean-Claude allowed himself only two deep breaths to recover before he dragged the body into his pen. Keeping one eye on the manger’s entrance, he stripped his victim for his clothes.

Alas, his victim was smaller than he. Jean-Claude could barely get the fellow’s drawers on, the shirt made him feel like a sausage, and the coat buttons were out of the question. Shoving his feet into man’s shoes felt like crushing his toes in a vise. Sitting down or bending over were likely to shred his cover.

He crept into the pen with the Seelenjäger. Maybe they could help each other. If this Seelenjäger could fly, he might be able to save them both.

The fellow whined and huddled up against the far end of the cell.

Jean-Claude wished he could proffer words of solace, but his voice clotted in his throat. Instead, he pointed to the Seelenjäger, hooked his thumbs together, spread his fingers in a fair imitation of a bird, and had it fly away.

The Seelenjäger pawed its nose ring with a trotter.

Jean-Claude pinched his nose and then made a clipping motion and threw the ring away. Then he made the bird gesture again.

The Seelenjäger’s dull, beaten-down eyes did not exactly light up, but he leaned forward slightly and let Jean-Claude approach. The ring had been pinned and welded. It was too thick to file through and would have to be cut.

Jean-Claude pointed to the Seelenjäger then to himself, cradled his arms as if holding an infant, and made the fly away gesture.

The Seelenjäger looked hesitant, but bobbed his head in what Jean-Claude chose to interpret as tentative agreement. Else this might be the most short-lived escape in the history of flight.