A leg, emerging from the trees: many jointed, plated in scales, ending in a cloven hoof. An elk’s long, sloping throat. A vixen’s skull beneath a wild crown of antlers. Moss and torn vines hung from the antlers like the veil of some mad bride. Behind the veil, her eyes gleamed a wet, arterial red. A patchwork monster. A nonsense of scales and fur which bore no resemblance to the girl I’d loved or the woman I’d married. Except, of course, that I loved her.
