Narrator

Not forward, not toward us, but sideways, slipping into the darkness like it had never been there.

Eric started driving before I could say anything.

Gravel sprayed.

We bumped down the spur road toward the main gravel, both vehicles moving too fast.

I kept looking in my mirrors, expecting to see something behind us, running, following, keeping pace like a predator.

I saw only trees.

We made it to the main gravel road, and for a few minutes I felt relief.

Motion feels like control.

Distance feels like safety.

Then, as we rounded a bend near the spot with a handmade warning sign, Eric's SUV swerved hard and stopped.

I braked behind him, heart pounding, and ran up to his window.

"'What?'

I said."

He pointed through the windshield.

In the middle of the road, standing in the pale afternoon light, was a deer.

Except it wasn't standing like a deer.

It was upright.

Not fully human upright.

More like it was balanced on its hind legs, forelegs bent in front of it like arms that didn't know what to do.

Its head was a deer's head, long snout, ears high.