Using the same dull knife he used to pry Peta’s teeth out, the same one he used to carve open that young elk ten years ago, he slits the tight skin of Peta’s swelling-up belly. A thin brown leg stabs up and he grabs on to it, traces it to its terminus. A hoof, a tiny black hoof. Lewis nods about the rightness of this, pulls that leg gently, his other hand ready.
