Anthony had been on his share of forest trails at night and he had seen trucks and jeeps of all kinds roar past. He had been in those jeeps before--spotlighting illegally with his uncle. They jeered together at the hapless clusters of does trapped in the beams.

His whole body shivered despite the heat rolling off of those hellish headlights. Out of reflex, stupidly, he too followed the phantom trails of smoke that leaked from the piddly wound on the monster's hand.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, Maurice was still face-down on the blacktop smarting all over something fierce with the hunter perched on top of him. Anthony had severed quite a few vital wick highways during his little stabbing frenzy and one of his arms was completely useless until they mended themselves. Not to mention hitting concrete after several pounds of man muscle stunned you hurt and he ached for every poor soul he'd had to pounce.

Why had the stabbing stopped? He turned his head to one side and managed to suck in enough air to let out a growl.