Dead animals decorated the cottage. If you could call dead animals decorations. Stuffed deer heads stared back from the walls with glassy doll eyes. Black bear hides spread across the southern wall, a family by the looks of it. Charming. A fisher mounted on a piece of driftwood across a mantle. In the corner sat a record player with a stack of vinyl. Ravels of chamfered wire led to two dodgy speakers. Sanders compound bow leaned against the east wall next to two side-by-side futons. Overall, the cottage was a thrown-together place but felt strangely comfortable. Maybe it was the good air. There was something about the Northwoods that demystified material items. An imperfect, small home like this was acceptable in the tangle of forest and hills. In fact, it seemed preferable. Who needs a big house when you’ve got paradise right out the door? People didn’t spend much time inside. But oh, in the suburbs of Chicago they were sealed in their homes like tombs.

“Grab a seat, eh?” Sanders said, pointing to one of the futons, a can of Cheez Whiz and a half-eaten package of Ritz in the other.

When Matt sat, Melinda leaned over and rubbed her hand along his back, her blond hair fanning over half her Nordic face. “I’ll get ya a cool one, eh?”

“I don’t mind getting my own,” he said, making eye contact.

“I’m not hung up on political correctness,” she said. “Lite or MGD?”

He felt like a jackass, but he had to admit her cerulean eyes were more than capable of making him feel certain ways. “MGD,” he replied, hoping she hadn’t detected his uncomfortable pause.

Sanders sat down on the futon next to Matt, roll of crackers in hand, a big grin stretching out his handlebar moustache. “Ritz?”

“Thanks, but I just ate.” Matt focused on the dead fisher, wondering why Sanders had it mounted since it was illegal to kill them. “Where’d you get the fisher?” he asked, regretting the words as soon as they passed his lips.

Sanders eyed him and took a crumbly bite of Ritz. Bits of cracker crumbs caught in his moustache. “You don’t need a license to hunt fisher, eh? You just need one to show up in your yard!” Sanders let out a roar of laughter.

“Always fighting the animals, eh? What’d they ever do to you?” Melinda said, brushing the front of her yellow sundress.