01/15/2025 Snippet, IRONGHOST.

Oh, deer.

Sorry, not sorry.

They started finding the obligatory bones just past the ponds. Or, rather, past the lake; that whole area was now one big marsh, with flooded neighborhoods that neither man needed to be avoided like the plague. You didn’t go poking around broken-down suburbs without a full crew behind, especially in the wet. There was no telling what might be lurking in the cellars.

The two men instead kept to the old Seven-Five, which was still good enough for walking. There wasn’t much to see except trees and briars, and nothing to hear but wind and the occasional bird, but they kept an eye out anyway. Most critters only made sounds after they pounced on you.

It was Nat who spotted the deer skeleton first, waving Oxman over before squatting down to take a closer look. “Guess they got big critters around here after all.” Nat frowned. “There’s something weird about this one, though.”

“The bones look natural,” Oxman replied. “Smashed up a lot, but… no, wait, you’re right. They’re just broken, not gnawed on or sucked for the marrow. Too much hide left, too. Whoever killed this poor bastard must’ve used a club, then just left it to rot without even skinning it first. That’s just wrong.”