Hikaru dared not look. He listened. All was silent. He could barely hear his own breathing. The forest lay beneath a blanket of snow lying about its purity. Hikaru grit his teeth against the hot tears filling his eyes.

The silence broke suddenly as the figure moaned. A solid thunk; it had fallen to its knees. Then wet tearing and gulps. Hikaru gagged. The hunter was eating.

He wanted to run. He wanted to hurl.

But that thing had killed Kijima. Hikaru pulled his hunting knife from its sheath and gripped it, the blade pointing down. He steadied himself, forcing himself to listen to the sounds of the creature's meal until his breathing was even, the mist of warm breath in the cold air barely visible. Then he stepped out silently from behind the tree.

The hunter knelt over the deer, hands splayed across its flesh, head buried in its neck. Hikaru fought nausea. He crept as close as he dared.

The hunter stilled. Hikaru lunged with a shout, bringing the knife down as hard as he could, right at the creature's neck.

An ice cold hand wrapped around Hikaru's wrist, catching the knife on its downward swing. Hikaru's fingers spasmed as he stared down into hunter's eyes. They were Kijima's eyes, red as rusted blood.

Reader, we are at a crossroads. If Hikaru fights for the knife, turn to Chapter 22. If Hikaru drops the knife and tries to speak with this Kijima, turn to Chapter 23.