My whole body lit up. The fear didn’t vanish, but for the first time since the mudslide I had something to follow. A trail. A chance.
“Hang on, handsome,” I muttered, breaking into a limping jog. “I’m coming.”
Determinedly I plunged deeper into the woods, chasing the breadcrumb trail of bow ties.
BROOKS
The forest felt wrong.
It happened slowly, so much so that I wasn’t even aware of the building sense of danger, but when it finally hit me, I got the distinct feeling I was a frog that had been sitting in simmering water for the last half hour.
I came to a halt and listened.
I realized the birds had stopped chirping.
The insects had stopped humming.
Hell, even the wind had stopped blowing.
Everything was too still, too watchful.
I tried to tell myself it was fine, that silence was good, that silence meant no more wasps, no more poison ivy—not that poison ivy makes noise—no more…
Crack.
I froze, my breath caught somewhere between my chest and my throat.
Slowly I turned my head, asking myself if I really wanted to see what had just made that sound.
Then I heard another noise.
A low, guttural huff.
A terrified whimper escaped me…
And then, out of the trees lumbered the thing that would be listed as my cause of death.
A bear.
A black bear.
Avery bigblack bear.
Its shoulders rolled with muscle. Its eyes fixed on me like it was scanning a menu. Its fangs trickled with drool.
And all I could think was, “It’s the Boneclaw Behemoth.”
Milton had been right all along. Dragons did exist. They just happened to be covered in fur and roaming the forests of Wisconsin.
I did the only logical thing a man of intellect could do in such a moment of mortal peril… I raised a trembling hand and tried to reason with it.
“Well, hey there, you cuddly little thing. I’m Brooks Beresford. Lovely to meet you. I own a bookshop. It’s very neat, very tidy, and I’m very much looking forward to returning to it… alive.”
The bear gave a low rumble and licked his lips.
“Oh no. You don’t wanna do that. You don’t wanna eat me. I taste of chamomile tea and crippling anxiety. I’m stringy and bitter and my neuroses are enough for you to choke on.”
The bear huffed again.
