It's midnight in Montpelier. (Yes; I know that doesn't quite have the same ring as "Midnight in Montgomery;" but you've got to bear with me...)

A wind blows, and chills. The moon rises. Tonight, the jackasses are on patrol around the Pavilion. They anticipate the wolves of Quebec with extreme bullheaded prejudice...

Beyond, a forest lies. It rises a bit, into the mountains.

In some of the trees, porcupines munch on the ends of branches. Shavings fall from them, as they eat. Porcupines are among the largest of rodents. Some might say they're of unusual size...

Across the ground, one lumbers around. In some places, the ground is just as challenging as a tree. And to think that Ethan Allen succeeded in protecting these mountains, many centuries ago... Men must've had stronger wills back when...

But then, if that was when the fur trade was king, these porcupines are lucky to remain. But of course, it's understandable if a porcupine coat isn't as desirable as a mink one...

Onward, the porcupine wanders. Somewhere along the trail, he stops, and looks around...

Through the air, a sai swings. It hits the rodent in the head, and knocks him cuckoo. He falls over. Once he's over, the first sai's sister comes down, and stakes the porcupine's neck into the rocky soil.

Clutching the rodent by the midriff, Quentin sweeps the mountains with its carcass. One by one, the dead rodent's quills fall off...

In the shadows, a fisher watches. His eyes glow green. He sees, and hates. HE'S the porcupine-hunting champ in these woods...

A fisher is a kind of marten. A marten is like a weasel, only arboreal, and bigger. This is the kind of animal that the fur trade DID prefer, along with minks, their water-preferring kin...

Victorious, Quentin chops some wood, and builds a fire. He waves his hatchet over the trophy every now and then, to keep a fisher from nicking it.

He chops up the rodent. He pours some water into a pot. He boils the water, and adds the porcupine. He also adds some of his favorite seasonings, as well as a jar of gravy...

Nearby, the fisher stalks him. He just can't forgive Quentin for making him look like an amateur in front of all the she-fishers in these woods...

Quentin eats, and belches between mouthfuls. Some of these foods can sure give him gas...

The fisher stalks in circles, around the fire. He eyes Quentin, with envy...

At last, Quentin acknowledges him...and freezes. The fisher freezes to. Their eyes have met.

The fisher's eyes glow yellow. So do Quentin's. For many moments, they're locked in a staring bout. Around them, time slows; sparks rise from the fire's flames slower, and the flames dance in slow motion...

The fisher blinks, and scurries off. Quentin blinks too. That was weird. Now, he must...

He faints. That stare took more out of him, apparently, than he had...

Around the fire, the fisher cleans up. Quentin sure left some good gravy in that jar, and not to mention some good porcupine blood on that cutting board...