Jack turned to see Ayabe leaning against the trunk of a tall dead cedar. In human form, he still stood almost seven feet tall, big and broad-shouldered with an impossible rack of antlers rising from his brow. He didn’t seem to feel their weight.

“You do remember that poker game?” he added.

“You must be thinking of my brother, Jim,” Jack said.

“I happen to know that you don’t have a brother.”

“Then somebody’s been feeding you lies. My litter had two boy pups and one girl. I’m the youngest, and I’m telling you now I couldn’t possibly owe you any money.”

“And how’s that?”

Jack shrugged. “When it comes to poker, I don’t lose.”

“I wonder if it’s only with poker.”

Jack didn’t see where the knife came from. One moment Ayabe’s hand was empty, the next it held a twelve-inch blade. The cerva smiled humourlessly as he threw the knife.

Jack moved his head just enough so that the blade went by his ear, imbedding itself in the trunk of a cedar behind him with a dull thunk. It would be so easy to pluck it out of the wood and throw it back. He’d aim for the chest, though, not the head. Head shots were always tricky, but it was hard to miss as big a target as the cerva’s chest.

It took all his will power not to retaliate. Instead, he schooled his features to remain calm and took a steadying breath.

“I’m guessing you weren’t actually trying to hit me,” he said.

“Why would you think that?”

“Would you have missed?”

Ayabe laughed. “You’re a cocky one, I’ll give you that.” He waited a beat, then added, “Are you going to show me some respect and offer me a smoke?”

“Sure,” Jack said. “Why not. It wasn’t like you were trying to kill me.”

Taking out his tobacco and papers, he rolled a fat cigarette and lit it with his Zippo.

“Nice lighter,” Ayabe said as he accepted the proffered cigarette and took a drag.

“I won it from Cody in a game. Like I said—”

“You don’t lose.”

Jack shrugged. “Though gambling’s probably the only area in my life where that applies.”

Ayabe had a second drag and offered the cigarette back to Jack.

“That’s okay,” Jack said. “I’ll roll myself another.”

Ayabe looked across the lake while Jack built his own cigarette. The cerva absently rubbed his antlers against the cedar behind him as he smoked, creating a steady snowfall of bark flakes that fell to his shoulders.

“I’m guessing you’re here about the buffalo,” he said, once Jack got his own cigarette lit.

Jack nodded. “So you’ve heard about it.”