Martin smiled a bit wistfully, thinking back to his high school years. Take a trip down memory lane, Marty, old pal—watch out, don't fall now, ha ha. Man, those were the days though. All-night parties. Freedom. No schedule to worry about. No bills to pay, no demands.

Just school. Oh yeah, forgot about school. Stay in school, kiddies. School is cool ha ha.

A dark shape broke through the trees up ahead with a commotion of snapped twigs and swishing brush.

He stopped in his tracks, on the verge of terror.

The large shadow rose, black wings spreading. It stood on four legs—a bird with four legs and wings on its head. Some kind of folk horror terror, a beast from a fairy tale.

His alcohol-addled mind struggled to comprehend the shape before him.

The bone-white moon shivered out from behind a shawl of cloud, illuminating the creature. Its black eyes stared at him. The beast snorted, hot breath pluming out from its wet black nose.

Martin laughed at his own fear. It was a massive stag, not a monster or a bird. It could easily kill him if it charged, but it was only a deer.

The same deer that trampled Nadine Hinkley? he wondered suddenly. A freak accident like that was surely a once in a lifetime occurrence. Literally, in Nadine's case.

The stag held him in its gaze, seeming to regard him. To size him up. Cocked its head to the side and blinked its frilly, girlish lashes.

Were deer supposed to look away when you stared at them, deferring like dogs? He didn't know. This one made no attempt to shy away from his gaze. It stood with its head lowered, staring him down. As if challenging him to move first or blink.

His eyes began to water from the cold. They stung. He didn't want to give in, to let the stupid animal win. No use. He blinked.

The animal snorted, a cloud of vapor rising from its nostrils. The black lips seemed to curl up in a smile, revealing brown, jagged back teeth. Then it turned and dashed away down the road, its hoofs clopping into the distance until the animal vanished in the darkness.

Close call, he thought, catching his breath. Next time I'm out after dark I'll take the gun with me. Just in case.

It's not paranoia if someone's literally out to get me.

When he got back to the house only the porch and kitchen lights were on. Norma and Sheila sat at the kitchen table, steaming mugs of hot cocoa between them. Sheila's eyes were raw from crying.

They both turned as he entered, identical expressions of disappointment on their faces. It made him think of the times he'd come home drunk or high to find Aunt Norma waiting for him in the kitchenette. The look had always sobered him up in a hurry. If he hadn't already lost his buzz on the walk home, he was stone sober now.