I carried a flashlight in one hand and the loaded Colt revolver in the other. The gun with its extended barrel was almost as long as my forearm. I wore hand-me-down shorts that had belonged to my brother when he was much younger than me, plus a ratty white tank top that swam on my skinny frame. I hadn’t developed yet. Not that I ever really would. My black hair was long and as scraggly as a witch in a windstorm. On tiptoes, I didn’t clear five feet, which made it easier to walk, because I was shorter than most of the dangling tree branches.

Ahead of me, I found a small clearing. Lightning had felled an old-growth oak, scorching the bark into charcoal and taking down several young birches as it fell. The ground was soft with leaves. I located a hollow where I could squat and do what I needed to do. I had to put the flashlight and the gun at my feet, so I could balance my hands on my knobby knees. The thick crowns of the trees threw a blanket between me and the moonlit sky, so with the flashlight off, I was literally as blind as if a hood were covering my eyes.

While I was in that awkward position, I heard a noise.

First came the snuffly snort of a breath, like a huffing sound. It was loud and close. Then snapping and rustling followed, the sound of undergrowth being crushed in the woods just in front of me. And then, worst of all, the noise stopped. The silence meant that whatever was out there could hear and smell me and had paused to investigate.

The most dangerous animals are stealthy hunters who don’t like to be heard, so my first thought was: bear. That didn’t really bother me very much. Black bears are common around here, and it wasn’t cub season, when the mothers get protective. Once he got a whiff of me, I figured he’d be on his way. Even so, I finished up what I was doing as quickly as I could, then felt around the ground and retrieved my flashlight and gun. I hadn’t heard anything to tell me that the animal was moving away, which meant that I still had company somewhere close by.

I turned on the flashlight. Slowly, I lit up the trees, first one way, then the other. I sang a song under my breath—“Jumpin’ Jack Flash”—partly to make myself feel better, partly to give the shy bear a reason to lumber off to other parts of the forest.

Just to be safe, I also used both thumbs to drag back the hammer on the revolver and cock it.

Hufffffff. Another quick, loud, angry snort.

The landscape crackled under the weight of heavy paws.