Harvey turned to face Nash and saw that his old friend, his best friend and idol, was moments away from breaking the biggest rule, about to let fly an arrow through the chest of their hometown secret, the untouchable bird, Trachtenbroit’s Great Owl.

He had to say something.

And yet…he wanted to see it happen.

Nash lifted his bow and took aim.

The owl acknowledged the movement below but didn’t make to fly. Nash kept statue-still, his arms raised at a direct angle to the black bird. The bowstring looked like it was going to snap. But it didn’t. Not yet.

“You,” Nash said. “You, you, you…”

In his red Trachtenbroit jacket, Nash looked like something from the past. Harvey couldn’t help but think of the settlers who hid in these woods.

Neal was a finger’s release from being tied to his hero forever. Like winding rope through an impossible wood.

“Is this…” Harvey started. “Is this beneath you, Neal?”

He wished he hadn’t asked it.

“Is Goblin beneath me?” Neal asked. “Is history beneath me, too? This is the finish line, Harvey. We’ve circled the globe together. Tracked giants and brought ’em back. But after all that effort…the trophy has always been right here, here at home.”

“Neal…”

“I want an owl, Harvey. And I want it now.”

Harvey looked up to the big black bird.

Why doesn’t it just fly away?

Neal bent the bowstring farther.

“Harvey,” he said. “In my right pocket is a camera. I want you to take a photo of this.”

“A photo, Neal?”

It sounded more mad than the murder. Nash was asking for evidence of his crime.

“I’ll need something to send Wayne Sherman, when he’s commissioned to carve a topiary of this moment, the biggest statue he’s ever done, the biggest moment in the history of our Goblin.”

The rain fell through the treetops, between the mythic bird and the hunter, Neal Nash, who wanted him.

20

Saul was now terrified. Not only had he not found his friends, but he hadn’t seen a thing but trees, distorted unending trees, since starting out. He was taking it slow because he had to. Because he couldn’t see any other way to take it. And he was so scared of encountering something, something he couldn’t hear over the noise of his own feet, that he stopped every couple of steps to check his ears. It was horrible, in its way, and he felt something close to embarrassment for the loyalty he gave Neal.

Once upon a time, a hunter fell from grace…

Oh, there was no question Neal was going for one of the Great Owls. No doubt about that.

Snap!

“Just a twig!” Saul cried out. “Just a twig…”

You’re sixty years old. Your name is Saul. Your mother’s name was Virginia. You used to sell fancy cars but now you don’t need to. You’re sixty years old. Your name is Saul. Your mother’s name was Virginia. You used to sell fancy cars but now—