The Mojo woman raises her head from her bunk. A song drifts in on the breeze from the open window.
Welcome Day
Welcome Morning
Welcome day.....
In this case, daylight is most welcome. She had spent the night wondering as to how she was going to get to New Orleans without getting her fool self shot, the odds wenen't in her favor.

Along with the melody, the kestrel darts into the open window. A dawn spent in the hunt. He churrs again and preens the woman's hair. She laughs and strokes him, "With songs like that m'deah, I can fly just fine without you."

The Mojo woman hears a familiar voice coming through the wall of her cabin. She leans to the wall and places her ear to it, only to hear the one voice that could bring terror to her soul.
"de Mornay!" she gasps.
"Ah, Fontaine, Fontaine, what seest thou else, in the dark backward and abysm of time?"
She turns and sets the bird to her shoulder "Oh, there is precious little time to waste now my friend."

de Mornay. She hadn't seen him since that night in the James Hotel ballroom in Minnesota. The only thing that had saved them all was a touch of white magic and the graces of the gods.
She quickly pulled a long curl of hair from her bag. Miz Sara wouldn't miss it, but she'd need to work fast. She quickly shut the windows, and pulled the shades. The candles were lit as fast as she could pull them from her bag.
Sitting once again cross-legged on the floor, she took the hair and began to plait it. Woven with charms and bits of bone from her bag, it had to be powerful if she was going to help to stop this madness once and for all.

de Mornay and de Soto. She'd seen them both before. Once, when she was stranded up North, she'd taken a job as a fortune teller with a traveling show in Iowa. The small crystal in her hand told her everything she needed to know, and people pay good money to hear how life is going to treat them.
de Mornay worked with the same outfit for a month. All the claims of being the pride of European theatre, but she knew better.
de Soto was a different story entirely. A strange light surrounded this man. A northerner with a southern accent? And she knew he was no trapper. "Who's the better actor?" she thought to herself. But she also thought of the St James Hotel, where she'd seen him lose to the Gambler. She tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen.

With her charm finished, she carefully tied it around her neck. Miz Sara Belle would be safe for now.
She opened the window once again, and the bird flew out. The woman gathered her things into her bag, and made her way to the Gambler's stateroom.