Zelda dreams of hunting, of freshly torn flesh and blood in her mouth. She opens her eyes, slowly, carefully, half expecting to find herself curled up to a fresh carcass. Her phone says it’s almost dawn despite the lack of light coming in the windows, and she can still hear that damned rain. She thinks about trying to go back to sleep, but her stomach’s rumbling and more dreams will only make it worse. She decides to hit the hardware store she spotted on the way in before the house wakes up. Buy some wood and wire and set a few traps. Catch whatever’s out there feeding in the cornfield to
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