Chapter 9

Three days passed, three long days that dragged by. The first had passed similarly to the day before—fifteen miles traveled before camping out on the road. It was the same group of eight people as before, and they all remained in relatively high spirits.

The next day Erin spent a good two hours explaining the plot of her favorite soap opera to Marsh, which he’d found infinitely hilarious. When he pointed out how horribly written it’d sounded, she’d gotten defensive and claimed it to be a crown of television. He somehow doubted that.

Tomas had brought a Walkman and had spent the day with his earbuds in, bobbing his head to his music. Halfway through their walk, they had stopped for lunch, and everyone had sat in shock and silence on the trail as they watched a bear lumber past the hikers and into the woods. Everyone had let out a collective sigh of relief that it hadn’t come over, interested in their thrown together sandwiches and trail mix.

Almost no progress was made the third day, and it was the first test for all of the hikers. It had rained the night before, leaving the ground slicked in mud. It was also the first steep climb, a grinding two miles of upwards descent before it dropped back down.

Even Erin had been uncharacteristically silent as she panted her way up the hill. When they all finally reached the top, they walked a flat mile before sharply descending downwards. When they’d returned to the flat path, the hikers walked for another three miles before giving in and resting the rest of the day. They had found a small campsite not marked on the official trail guide and decided to pull off for the day.

Fifty-two miles traveled. Well over fifteen hundred to go.

Marsh found himself lounging in the soft grass of the campsite. The sun had just passed its peak, and everyone sat around chatting and eating. Sammy lay in the grass, bone in his mouth. He’d carried the cow femur with him through the journey, and the husky had been doing well. Marsh had worried about the dog making the trip, but he was holding up better than Marsh could’ve hoped for.

Marsh ran his fingers through the dog’s fur, tracing circles along Sammy’s back. He dragged his finger lightly up the husky’s head, along the curve of his pointed ears, and then down his back.

Sammy was getting old—Marsh knew that. But whenever he thought of that fact, a chasm seemed to open up beneath him, endless and all encompassing. He couldn’t help but bury the feeling lest he drown in it.

“I love you,” Marsh whispered.

From behind the two came a loud shout from one of the hikers. Both Sammy and Marsh turned and froze. Behind them, a good ways away, was a giant herd of deer. All of the hikers fell quiet as they watched the brown creatures slowly walk towards the campers. No one spoke, no one breathed, and no one moved as the herd crept through the clearing, right into the gathering of people.

Sammy sat up and Marsh wrapped his arms around the dog.

It was ten deer—two bucks, three does, and four fawns. They seemed to move as one, stepping in sync through the clearing. The light reflected in their beady eyes. Marsh held on tightly to Sammy as a large buck passed directly in front of them. The animal inclined its head, looking down at the boy and his companion.

The buck stomped his foot, and Marsh nearly choked on his own spit as Sammy whined, and slackened in the boy’s arms. The two other bucks stepped forward to flank the one already in front of Marsh.

Sammy lay in the grass, snout between his paws. The husky stared up at the three bucks and Marsh’s line of sight kept moving between his dog and the deer towering over them. Time seemed to slow as the bucks stared first at Sammy, then at Marsh.

Somewhere in the camp, one of the campers coughed.

The buck who had first come to stand in front of the boy and his companion bent his head. He reached his muzzle towards Sammy, and Marsh slowly released his hold around the dog as the deer sniffed the husky one then twice before rubbing his nose against the neck of the dog.

Then, the deer turned his head to stare at Marsh from where the boy sat on the ground of the glade. The other hikers seemed to fade—it was only him, Sammy, and the three deer.

The boy’s stomach turned around and around as the buck reached towards Marsh. He waited, back straight in a combination of terror and pure amazement as the deer bent down and pressed his nose along the nook of Marsh’s shoulder. The buck trailed his soft, leather nose along his neck before he pressed his mouth against the base of Marsh’s jaw and licked him.

The buck stood, and the three deer turned to rejoin the herd which stood watching Marsh and Sammy amidst the shocked hikers. The ten deer turned and left, and it was only once they were gone that reality seemed to crash atop Marsh.

The boy was shaking, his hands fidgeting back and forth in his lap as his breath came in shallow breaths. His heart was racing faster than it had in years, and Sammy still lay on the grass next to him, face between his paws and glacial eyes following the line of the herd.

What the hell? What the hell had just happened? Marsh looked around and noticed the cluster of hikers, plus Tomas and Erin, staring open-mouthed in shock at him.

Tomas stepped forwards, eyes shining in complete bewilderment. He extended a hand for the boy as he quietly spoke. “Marsh,” he whispered, “what in the actual fuck was that?”

Marsh grabbed Tomas’s forearm, letting the reader haul him to his feet. “I…I don’t know.” He hated how much his voice shook, but he didn’t care enough to try and fix it. He looked down at Sammy. The bone sat next to the dog, forgotten.

Erin came bounding over, face red with excitement. “Marsh,” she shout-whispered, “that was actually fucking insane. What did you do?”

“I don’t know,” he repeated. It felt as if he was looking through his two friends into the woods. A single deer stood between two pine, beady black eyes piercing into Marsh. It inclined its head up then down into the bushes before turning back into the woods.

The boy looked down at his companion—Sammy’s eyes were trained towards the same spot. They had both spotted it: the deer between the trees.

“Did you hear us?” Asked Erin.

Marsh snapped out from his spell to look at Erin and Tomas, both of whom stared at the boy in worry. Marsh shook his head to clear his brain, which had turned to mind-numbing slush over the last few minutes. ”Sorry, what?”

“Do you need anything?” Erin repeated.

Marsh’s throat had turned to sandpaper and he found himself having to clear it multiple times before speaking. “Maybe some water?”

Erin nodded and rushed off to her bag while Tomas helped him to his feet. Several of the other campers rushed to grab Marsh some food while another offered to let him rest in their tent. Marsh waved them off. He could walk and stand, and his legs only shook a little. That was okay, though. He was okay.

Marsh looked behind him to make sure that Sammy was okay, and one of the hikers had already taken the dog’s leash, guiding the husky to a bowl of water someone else had set out.

Erin came stumbling back over as Marsh sat down, bracing his back against his pack. She crouched down, giving him her bottle. “Here.”

Marsh grunted in appreciation and took the bottle, taking three deep swigs. He passed it back, sighing and closing his eyes. “I think…I think I’m just going to close my eyes for a minute,” he whispered.

Before anyone could respond, Marsh had fallen off into slumber.

When Marsh awoke, the sun was disappearing under the horizon. The hikers had all set up their tents, and someone had even set up his for him. Marsh looked down and sighed in relief—Sammy lay next to him, the dog’s leash wrapped around Marsh’s arm.

The boy let out a long breath, allowing himself another minute of quiet before standing and shaking Sammy awake. The dog rolled over and yawned before standing and shaking himself awake. “Good boy,” whispered Marsh.

The two walked between the tents to the bonfire set up into the middle of the small glade. Everyone turned at their approach, and as the boy and his companion approached, they all smiled.

Erin stood and walked Marsh over to where she was sitting. “I’m glad you’re awake,” she whispered.

“Thanks. What are we doing?” Marsh looked around. Everyone sat in the soft grass, a small fire burning in front of them. All around them, the trees shook and shivered in the wind. A biting chill ran through the glade, balanced by the fire’s warmth. The flames danced off the tents and the faces of the people who smiled and exchanged quiet conversation with each other.

The sun, which was nearly gone, spilled orange and pink and red through the sky. The clouds, turned the same burnt colors, drifted lazily behind the tall trees.

Then, to Marsh’s absolute astonishment, Tomas stood and cleared his throat. Everyone fell silent as they turned to look at him. “I think,” began Tomas, “that tonight is perfect for a couple stories.”

He paused, as if waiting for someone to answer. A woman raised her hand—Marsh believed her name was Quince? “I’d love to hear one.”

A couple other hikers nodded or voiced their curiosity.

Tomas smiled and sat down in front of the fire. The flames caught in his eyes, turning them black. The red fire danced across his face, and as he opened his mouth, the blaze turned his teeth amber. “This tale feels rather fitting,” he began.

Erin and Marsh exchanged surprised looks. Tomas. Quiet, awkward Tomas was really going to lead them all in campfire stories? And yet, his voice was loud, strong, and a dark power lined his words.

“The tale,” continued Tomas, “of Deer Woman.”

And at those words, a wave of nausea washed over Marsh with such a force he had to keep from vomiting. It lasted only for a single, sickening moment before the feeling cleared, and in its place was another feeling:

Marsh swore—he swore—he could feel a second heartbeat in his chest, just off-tempo with his own.

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