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Funhouses are officially the worst thing about carnivals.
The rest of the place hadn't been too horrible; most of it had been pretty boring, obviously geared towards kids, definitely not worth the six tickets Malia had given up from their supply so that her and Kira could come inside.
But the hall of mirrors is hell.
She's been searching for the exit for what feels like twenty minutes, and every time she's certain that she's figured out the correct path, she ends up banging her face against the glass. The screeching music pouring from the overhead speakers and the intertwined smells of popcorn, sweat and cotton candy, along with the damn mirrors, are wreaking havoc on her senses, and she has a feeling it's only a matter of time before she catches a reflected glimpse of her fangs.
If that happens, maybe she'll scare one of the kids that keep zipping by.
At least then she'd have some fun.
She wanders for another five fruitless minutes, and she's on the verge of punching her way out when a flicker of movement in her peripherals makes her spin around.
"Hey!" Kira says with a bright grin. "I thought I lost you."
"Please say you know how to get out of this hellhole," Malia replies, automatically reaching for Kira's free hand, the one that isn't clutching the giant stuffed fox Malia won for her at the ring toss booth.
"I do," Kira says, squeezing Malia's hand tightly. "Let's get out of here."