Poppy said, “That was a terrible thing to see.”

Kimmy said, “Poor Daddy, having to hold that poor thing while it dies.”

Rae snorted.

Kimmy stared at her sister. “You don’t feel bad for Daddy?”

“He would have left it alone if he had half a brain,” Rae said disdainfully. “It would be dead already, and it wouldn’t have suffered as much if he’d just let it go.”

“Rae!” Lisa said. “Jesus Christ!”

Poppy coughed. “OK, everybody. We saw something terrible. Let’s not fight.”

They walked in silence for a while, and eventually Alex murmured, “She’s right.”

Ryan was the only one who heard his sister speak, and he leaned down. “What’d you say?”

“Rae’s right.”

Ryan nodded and placed a finger over his lips, indicating that he agreed but it did not need to be restated.

At the lagoon, as soon as the others had disappeared down the path, John approached Scott, who was still cradling the fawn against his chest. Its breath was thin and uneven.

He said, “Why don’t you set that poor thing down.”

“I know she’s lost a lot of blood, but I think we can save her. Here . . .” Scott made a move to hand the fawn off to John. “Here, you hold her a sec. If I take off my shirt, we can wrap it . . .”

John took a step back, refusing to handle the animal. He said again, “Set that poor thing down.”

Scott sputtered, “Well, but we can’t just leave her here to suffer.”

“I don’t intend to,” John said, drawing his Swiss army knife from his pocket.

“Oh God,” Scott moaned from deep in his belly. Saliva drooped from his bottom lip. The fawn squirmed against Scott, but he didn’t seem to notice. “Oh God,” Scott said again. He looked like he was seriously contemplating running off into the woods with the fawn, never to return.

“Get a grip,” John said, and he examined the blade of his knife. He spat on it.

Scott said, “Please don’t.”

Disgusted, John said, “You don’t have to watch, but you’ve drawn this out enough.”

Scott blinked, suddenly aware that John’s ire was directed at him. “I just wanted to save her,” Scott said, talking loudly over the terrible sound of the fawn’s labored breath. Its nostrils twitched, its eyes rolled in semiconsciousness.

John grunted, “For crying out loud, put that animal down.”

Scott put the fawn down, turned his back, and hiccupped as John drew a swift, deep cut through the animal’s neck. It was dead in two seconds. John rinsed his bloody fingers and the blade in the water of the lagoon.

Without turning around, Scott said in a broken voice, “Should we bury her?”

John rose to stand, and his knees cracked. “Not sure why you’re so convinced it’s a her. Anyhow, I reckon we’ll leave it right where it is so that gator can finish it off.”

“You kidding me?” Scott hiccupped again. “After all this, you’re just gonna let her body get ripped apart by that bastard in there?” He nodded toward the dark water. “You really want this precious little thing to go out in the most undignified manner—”