“I’m Harland, we didn’t talk much personal in the pub yesterday,” Says the heavyset man, outstretching a large dirty palm.

“Yeah. About that,” Clark rested the axe on a stump, he looked up as he turned to shake the man’s hand. However, he caught the prying eyes of Doc Walz in the window lined with frost. Clark firmly clung to Harland’s hand and repositioned himself so that the back of Harland’s large smooth head was facing the window, obscuring Walz’s view.

“Nice seeing you,” Says Walz, eyeing the doctor who now had left to be inconspicuous but only further criminalizing himself.

The handshake eventually broke and Harland spoke, “The Doc ain’t nothing but a little creep. He’s smart and has his perks when someone ‘round town gets sick. Otherwise he’ll shake you up with his glances and drunken stupors when he assumes you’re his brother or such. Ignore it.”

“I wasn’t avoiding no one, sun’s in my eyes,” the second part was true, Clark had lied though and Harland knew.

“Of course,” He said, glancing at Clark who busily carried lumber to a suitable resting place.

“Fuck.” Clark says after lifting wood onto the stack under the shed’s cover, “Nipped me, got a splinter.”

“Rid yourself of it,” Harland laughed.

“I’d rather not,” Grins Clark, “Reminds me to wear gloves tomorrow.”

“You’re staying another night?” Asks Harland, now carrying wood in his gloved hands.

“No. But I’m making a firepit tomorrow, thought I’d remind myself then.”

“You’re joking,” Grins Harland, crossing his big robed arms.

“Not in the slightest, got memory issues.”

“Memory issues, huh? Maybe all that basilisk brew from yesterday,” Harland tries for something but Clark responds late, “No. It’s a family tradition.”

“That isn’t how traditions— Nevermind, you got some issues in the head.”

“Long-standing ones, from when I was a kid.”

The horse whinnied in the distance, “Shut up Marin!” Shouts Harland, shaking his head, “Useless horse, all the old thing gets up to is eating.”

While Harland was gesturing toward the horse out of sight, Clark flicked the splinter from his index finger with his thumb. He proceeded to hide his hand in his pocket.

Harland turned back and noticed the hand in the pocket, “say it’s awful cold now is it? You sure you are up to help me get the rest of this wood in the shed?”

“It’s the least I can do for sleeping here.”

Clark took up wood with his left hand, leaving the right in the pocket; knowing it wasn’t worth making a fool of himself, he took it out and lifted a second piece of wood to throw to the stack. There was no cut where the splinter had nestled itself into his hand just a second before. The slight cut had healed that fast from when the wooden intrusion had been removed.

Eric Mansard lit a cigar and stood in the field, the wind billowed through his white hair, and stained plaid shirt. They are nocturnal. That means they sleep, that means they are mortal. Eric wrapped his fist in tall yellow grass, the beige tips were dead and full of their seeds. Eric pulled and the grass snapped from its rooty stalk.

Fucking horse. Marin, old things just have to be put down. His eyes followed the dandruff snow through the blond hair of the grass and to the edge of the plains where it met the forest.

“Dad?” Calls out the voice of Eric’ daughter from behind, she had orange hair which curled and blue eyes, and was in her early teenage years.

“Yes, Sue?” Eric turns to her.

“You’ve been out for a while, Mom wanted me to come find you, make certain you’re safe.”

“Well mom doesn’t know me, I’m never in danger. You just need to be brave like dad and show the world how much of a fighter my little Susan can be.”

“Fighter? Dad I’ve never even seen a monster! Are you sure they’re even real?” Asks Susan.

“Yes,” Said Eric, not wasting time on hesitation, “The monsters are real. They’re always just out of sight, moving at night and haunting our little town; horrible things.”

The cigar now hung idly in his hand and he buried it in the snow and watched the steam drift away.

“Come with me,” Eric led his daughter to the center of town, eyes focused on the horse, “Ride him to the woods out back of town,” Susan kicked the sides of the horse, it whinnied and shouting could be heard downhill.

“Nevermind that now hon’,” Eric' face grew anxious and his eyes were dim, he handed his daughter a knife, she was still on the horse’s back, which was now growing very still.

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“Um dad, what is the knife for?”

“Our own good,” Eric replied, “Cut.” The command was brief and simple.

“What?” Asks Susan, “Cut what, why?”

“The horse— cut its head off,” responded Eric, shrugging off some cold. “Here, I’ll help you,” Eric guided the knife to the back of the horse's neck. “I’m hunting a monster, teaching you how to. How to spot one where it doesn’t belong, early signs of infection, how to get rid of them.”

Susan pulled her hand and the knife away.

“Marin is not a monster, he is our horse! He tilled the fields for us back in the day and—”

“There are no fields!” Eric outbursts falling up against the horse’s side, “There is no home, no town, my brothers are dead and it’s all because of Doctor Walz. I just need to right one wrong.”

“Mansard?” Called a voice from the porch of the inn, MacKinney stood just out of view, “What’s going on here?” The worried barkeep leaned on the doorframe.

“Nothing,” Eric lies, “My daughter wanted riding lessons, I had to oblige for my own peace of mind, right hon’?”

“Uh huh,” Says Sue, forcing a smile. Eric smiles back.

“Seeing as Marin is one lazy son of a bitch of a horse, surprised y’all are even trying,” Says MacKinney.

“Always give your all, until you have none more to give.” Responds Eric, lifting his daughter from the back of the horse.

MacKinney Nods, “Walz wants to know why you were touching his horse.”

“Christ sake man, use his first name too. You know with— Josep.”

MacKinney furrowed his face, “Right— James.”

“Fuck James. He’s a weird man. Worst monster there is.”

“He saved your son’s life,” Protests MacKinney.

Susan slips away from the scene and back home. James didn’t pay much mind, “What difference does it make? His father is the worst monster of all. His keeping my horse living like this is one in a long line of failures, I intend to end it.”

“Proceed as you wish,” MacKinney conceded. These aren’t my affairs.”

James looks at the ground, “Your son. Remember that MacKinney, he was your son that Mister James Walz saved. Not mine, so these are your affairs. What difference does it make, he’s probably dead now regardless.”

“Yes. Go home now, take the horse for all I care, stay out of my pub though; I don’t want to see your ugly face ever again.” MacKinney goes inside and closes the door behind him.

“Oh my god,” thought James at noon, sitting in his backyard, his hands soaked in horse blood, “Good Job Sue, get the fire ready,” James Mansard smiled as he was finally what he was meant to be, the hero.

Daverick Ferguson and his wife Louisa arrived at the Mansard house in the mid-afternoon, the sky was clear and it had warmed up a bit, but the air was still brisk.

Susan answered the door, “Oh hello miss Ferguson.” She paused, “Dad! The neighbors are here.” The two walked into the room.

“Fergie,” James lay on the couch, his hands in big gloves, his feet were on the ground and a gun was in his hand.

Daverick and Louisa exchanged worried glances.

“Hey, Jim, you don’t look too good,” grimaces Daverick.

“Fine, I am just swell.” James stands and gets drinks from the kitchen.

“Are we having a feast? I could smell that you’re cooking meat, all across town,” Pressures Louisa. Susan looks away and Daverick shakes his head at his wife and holds up a finger.

“I was trying to ease the mood,” replies Miss Ferguson.

“The horse finally moved, I know how you didn’t ever like it,” Tried Mister Ferguson.

“I killed the horse.”

All eyes in the room turned to Susan, “What?” Asked the elderly Ferguson couple. Eric returned to the room with three steins of beer for him and the guests and some water for his daughter.

“I don’t drink anymore.” Says Miss Ferguson, nodding idly from the couch.

“Drink the beer.” Says Eric, narrowing his eyes at her. Louisa stopped speaking.

The wood in the fire crumbled loudly.

Louisa took a sip from the stein and Mister Ferguson gripped his stein, “What the hell is going on here, why did Sue say she killed Marin? Why do you have us here? What is going on!”

“Fergie, I’ll be honest while Anise is sleeping, Sue is lying, I killed Marin,” Replied Eric, gripping Daverick’s shoulders and rubbing them.

“That’s what you called me when we were little. Oh how time flies,” He tries changing the subject.

“I killed the monster the old Josep Walz helped start. I killed it.”

“The horse?” Asks Daverick, “Well I suppose, if it was a monster.”

“It may have been, we’ll never know, but I sure am.”

Fergie stood and grabbed Susan by the arm, “Come on I will get you out of here, something’s wrong he pulled the girl toward the door. A single gunshot exploded through the room and Daverick fell, covered in blood, Susan and Louisa screamed. Eric stood, emotionless, “I cut up the horse and am burning the head where the infection lives, I buried the rest of it.”

Louisa slowly walked back, avoiding provoking Eric by going near his daughter. Susan was stood right by Daverick and she couldn’t comfort her husband in his dying breaths without being forced to join him in the afterlife.

A long spindly leg of flesh came from the fireplace, it had one joint and punctured the stone floor, behind Eric, “I’m sorry, hon’. This world failed you. And as a father I am meant to be this world.”

Another tendril came from the fire and flipped around lazily on the floor.

“I like a good basilisk brew for us all,” Smiles Eric, “Things get real weird when they smell it on your breath.”

Another thin red tentacle from the fire wraps around Eric’s leg. Susan is now pressed against the door which is locked trying to open it. Louisa is pounding on the window and screaming. On charred tendrils the coaly horse head of Marin rose from the fire.

“I’m the monster. I’m the hero.” Says Eric being quickly dragged into the fire and merging rapidly with the burnt remnants of the horse, the tentacle creature lunged onto the body of Daverick and started fusing his arms into what remained of the horse’s eye socket.

“Dad.” Cries Susan punching at the locked door. Anise comes into the room and picks up the gun and shoots the monster three times in the central mass. Blood was flung from this mass but it quickly regrew shoddy replicas of the two bodies and horse’s head which all the limbs and organs protruded from, grasping in all directions as the tentacles and arms dragged the burnt monster towards Anise who kept shooting from the revolver, twice more but little changed and there was no longer bullets left.

Anise ran into the bedroom and the creature groaned as it dragged itself after her, long arms reaching for the next spot on the floor to keep dragging itself inward.

Louisa, close the door! Louisa closed the door and barricaded it as Sue cried. “Save her.” Susan tried pulling at the door, “She did this for you. I am not willing to lose you too.”

There were sounds of slapping and groaning and popping and punching coming from the bedroom as Anise struggled with the monster to just buy more time.

Louisa picked up Susan and ran through the street and exploded her way into the pub.

MacKinney was shocked, “Misses Ferguson?” He asks. Doctor Walz stumbled downstairs and saw that the horse was gone from in front of the bar, “Where’s Marin? And where the hell is Clark?”