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“But there is a chair on the decking that has been turned over,” Steph said.

“Again, Fergus is as tidy as he is careful,” Davey said. “Probably knocked it over himself when getting out of it… or an animal knocked it over when snooping around and he can’t be arsed to pick it up. Probably the latter.”

Davey continued walking. Steph followed. Still with an uneasy feeling in her stomach, she made sure there were a few yards between herself and Davey. Her heart was beating slightly faster, and some primal voice told her to stay vigilant. Hairs stood up on her neck. Davey began to slow as he approached the cabin. Then he stopped. Steph stopped behind him.

Davey took his tranquillizer rifle from his back and stood holding it, staring at the cabin.

“I said something wasn’t right,” Steph whispered.

Davey waved a quieting hand in her direction. It took more self-restraint than she’d care to admit not to snap at his dismissiveness. Instead she watched him. Slowly he began to move, lowering the rifle.

The ground was soft near the cabin from the rainfall the night before. It was also scarred with prints. Large prints buried into the ground deep enough to display the power of the animal that made them.

Steph was sweating a little now, yet her mouth was dry. She edged closer to Davey who still silently stalked forward. Theywere nearly at the decking now. They stopped. They listened. Nothing. Davey edged forward again. Steph reluctantly followed.

As they looked at the decking, it became clear that something had moved across it. Something bleeding.

Davey put one foot on the grooved wooden planks and there was a gut-churning creak. They froze. They listened. Still nothing.

Davey lifted his other foot onto the decking and began to walk towards the open doorway, its door hanging heavily.

“Wait!” Steph breathed.

“What?” Davey mouthed in irritation.

“Are you sure it’s safe?”

Davey ignored the question completely and crept inside. Steph didn’t know what to do. If anything, she felt more concerned now that she was outside alone rather than inside.

A sudden voice crashed through the doorway and into the still air.

“Fucking hell!”

Steph bolted to the door. What she could do she didn’t know, but her legs had recklessly carried her there all the same.

“What?” she gasped. “What happened?”

In front of her lay Davey, one hand pushing himself up from the floor. Steph wretched.

Davey lay surrounded by blood seeping into the floorboards.

“How did you end up on the floor?” Steph asked. “Didn’t you see the… well, how couldn’t you see the blood?”

Davey still didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned against a table, lying his rifle on the top and then lifting a foot up. He examined what was on the bottom and then looked away, closing his eyes.

He then proceeded to scrape the sole of his boot on the table leg whilst saying, “Forgive me, Fergus.”

“What was that?” Steph asked as she looked at the pink scum that was now stuck loosely to the table leg.

“That,” Davey said, shaking his head, “is what little is left of Fergus.”

“What?”

“It’s why I slipped,” Davey exhaled between deep breaths.

Steph grimaced.

“Anyway,” Davey said quite seriously, “I think we had best close the door.”