It’s never going to be presentable as long as it’s yours, Strange. Lambert eyes the dead jackalope with a sigh, then rolls up to get away from the sleeping bag — he doubts Childermass would appreciate blood on it, even if it isn’t technically theirs — to begin skimming and cleaning the damn thing. He’s seen Childermass do that plenty enough these past few days that he knows how to do it.

“He wants the insides,” he explains, as he works. “Childermass has been feeding them to him since we got here.”

Childermass, who isn’t back yet from ... wherever the Ringmaster took him. Lambert scowls down at the rabbit corpse. Not that he expected a quick resolution, but he doesn’t know when it’ll be over, either.