There was no way she could outrun it. But then she looked again at the plastic tangled around its antlers, the way it dragged and flapped with each step. The moose wasn’t attacking or fleeing—it was leading.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, jolting her from her thoughts. She fished it out, her fingers trembling from both the cold and her growing unease. Peter: Julie, this isn’t safe. Where are you? Julie: I just sent my location. Meet me if you can.