He woke gasping. The statue was no longer on the nightstand. It was on his chest, cold as a corpse’s hand. Karel did not believe in the supernatural. But he believed in pattern. And the pattern was this: every time a child vanished, a family in Záhrobí reported the same nightmare—the antlered figure, the burning trees, a command to leave an offering of “the smallest tooth” at the quarry entrance. Those who obeyed saw no harm. Those who didn’t—their children disappeared.
Karel’s radio crackled. He had no signal. czech hunter 10
Karel switched on his headlamp and stepped inside. He woke gasping
“They are home. You are the visitor. You took my tooth. I will take your years.” the burning trees