“I built this blind in 2005 and haven’t shot from here since 2010. As every year of ours is three of theirs, I think it safe to assume none of them will be on their guard should they pass near. From here you can sight on the stairs and also pick off anyone moving along the footpath beside the river. I must be out to check the condition of my other blinds and to place a few snares for whurls. With luck I will have some new prizes to replace Mehitabel and Hutch before we exit this world. If I hear a shot, I will return at a brisk pace, and you need have no fear of shooting me in the half-light. I know what you can see from this blind and have no intention of crossing into your field of fire. Watch for faun! They are plentiful, and you are sure to see some before long. Remember, there are no laws here against taking down a doe or a young’un, and the meat is just as tender—but we only mount the bucks as trophies!”

He lifted two fingers in a wry salute and descended, gently dropping the trap shut behind him.

Christian had settled in one of the camp chairs with his drawing pad but leaped up to study a cobweb in a high shadowed corner. The spider had spun a few words into the web:

FREE BED FOR FLYS

Christian whispered in a breathless voice for Peter to come look. Peter studied it for a moment, then said, “I don’t think that’s how you spell flies.”

Stockton dropped into a camp chair, unbuttoned one of the snap pockets on the front of his camos, and produced a small canteen. He had a sip of coffee and sighed and offered it to Fallows. The other man shook his head.

“Hard to believe it’s real,” Christian said, turning his drawing pad to a new page and idly beginning to sketch. “That I’m not dreaming this.”

“What time do you think it is? Almost night or almost day?” Stockton asked.

Christian said, “Maybe it hasn’t made up its mind. Maybe it could still go either way.”

“What do you want it to be?” Fallows asked.

“Night for sure! I bet the best things come out at night. The real monsters. Be great to bring back a werewolf head for the wall.”

Peter guffawed. He took his rifle back from Fallows and flung himself onto the floor.

“Let’s hope we don’t see a werewolf,” Stockton said over the rim of his thermos. “After what we spent to get here, we didn’t have much left over for silver bullets.”

Fallows Prepares