I do what I can, the little voice said. If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.

Don’t go.

A moment later Matt reached the shack. So did the blood track. He tried to calm himself, then held his breath and listened.

A drop of blood splattered onto one of the slate walkway rocks his father had placed years ago. The air around him warmed like a sauna, and elephantine breathing huffed from his right.

It’s next to you, Matthew, the little voice said.

Tell me something I don’t know, he thought, preparing to look up at the aspen to see if he could catch an irregularity in the thing’s camouflage.

Don’t look up, fool! Remember surprise tactics? Besides, if the Puller knows you can see it, it might get mad enough to finish you off once and for all. Play its game. Don’t reveal your hand too early.

Matt kept his head low and turned away, feigning interest towards the dead oak. Any acting class would’ve burst out laughing, but maybe it was enough for the Puller.

Shaking, but doing his best to straighten his hand, Matt unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and pissed. As the rope of urine mixed with a drop of the creature’s blood, he laughed.

Why are you laughing? the voice asked.

“Because I have more information on the Being, and that makes me happy.”

The Puller, Matthew. It’s the Puller.

“Pull this, bitch,” he said, shaking the last drop out.

That sort of behavior will get you nowhere, the voice said.

“I am nowhere,” he said. “I’m in Nowhere Land making all my nowhere plans for nobody. So excuse me if manners aren’t a priority, okay?”

Matt limped over to his truck and inspected the underside for leaks. As he did, the ground thudded behind him, and the familiar whipping sound returned.

Was it moving towards him? He didn’t think so. Perhaps it had other games to play, elsewhere. Maybe it needed to eat.

He wondered why it had not yet eaten him.

Oh but the Puller ate the moose, didn’t it Matthew? the voice said. I think he likes you as a plaything. I fear that the taste of your flesh won’t get you killed, but rather boredom. Don’t let the Puller become bored.

Matt kicked at the grass with his boot toe. That was it, wasn’t it? Keep the creature occupied. It could be doing something else, off in another land, another planet, who knows the hell where. For all he knew it had no reason to keep him other than for a toy, or a game. What he needed was to keep things interesting in a way that didn’t get him injured or killed. A court jester, flipping balls around and nyuck-nyucking, doing cartwheels with a big shit-eating grin.