chapter 8

Where was the body?

The room was scarcely larger than a cupboard. I searched every corner, but the carcass had vanished.

The cunning creature truly possessed supernatural skill. Several stab wounds had not killed it, and it had slipped away while my attention wandered.

I followed the trail of blood across the floor. If I failed to finish it now and let it recover, my family and I would be the ones to die.

I had already gone this far. I would strike while it was weak and end the threat.

There was no time to lose. I grabbed a rusty ax from the corner and followed the blood.

At first the trail was thick. Farther on, it thinned to a few scattered drops.

I strained to follow its direction and eventually realized it was leading me back to the woods where I had first met the beast.

Dawn was beginning to gray the sky. The blood became harder to find as I searched among the trees. At last, the trail ended before a concealed cave.

Was this the weasels’ den?

I hesitated. If the entire pack lived inside, entering would almost certainly get me killed.

After a long struggle with myself, I chose to go in. Either way, death was already pursuing me. Better to gamble now, while I still had an ax and a knife.

I swung the ax a few times to build my courage, bent low, and entered the cave.

The opening was narrow, but the passage grew wider the deeper I went.

The smell worsened with every step. Tiny bones littered the ground among feathers from chickens, ducks, and geese.

Weasels were known to eat poultry, but no household in the village had reported losing birds in such numbers.

Could it be…?

I shook away the suspicion.

After walking farther, I heard squeals ahead. I switched on my phone’s flashlight and aimed it into the darkness.

The beast sat on a little platform built from heaps of feathers, glaring at me.

It tried to stand and attack, but failed again and again. It could only crouch there while blood seeped anew from wounds that had begun to clot.

I approached and raised the ax to take its head in one blow. As I started the swing, I saw something impossible in its eyes: a plea for mercy.

But it was not pleading with me. It was looking behind me.

I turned sharply, facing the person in the darkness with every muscle tense.

“Don’t be afraid. It’s me.”

Grandpa Eighteen stepped into view.

“Why are you here?”

His face remained hidden in shadow, impossible to read.

“I woke in the night and saw that you were gone. I was worried something had happened, so I came looking.”

“You seem to wake up awfully often,” I said with a cold laugh.

“Age makes a man sleep lightly. Never mind that. Kill the beast before it hurts anyone else.” Impatience edged his voice.

“It understands human speech, Grandpa Eighteen. Aren’t you afraid you’ll hurt its feelings by calling it a beast?”

I kept facing him, the ax raised high above my head.

“What do you mean?”

He emerged from the shadows. Deep wrinkles covered his face, and in the space of one night he seemed to have aged more than a decade.

Only then did I see the knife in his hand.

“I mean this beast belongs to you, doesn’t it?” I said with absolute certainty.