The stag is a man, and she knew this all along, saw this all along, but didn’t either, because he wasn’t man then. He was a stag. Or a man in a stag suit. Or stag in a man suit. He stands now on two legs, near her in the stream, and he still has a stag’s black eyes and stag’s white fur. His antlers are really a bow, and also arrows, slung over his back in a way that they stick up above his head, wooden and carved. Around his neck on a leather thong hangs a silver shine, like her ring only different, long and pointed. A tiny knife, serrated, the handle made of something ivory. Horn, she thinks. And then: No. Bone.

[You can read the whole novel as it’s written… just ask me for the password!]

Kiss kiss, bang bang, s.