Sticks had been stuck solidly into the earth in the area surrounding the cave. Some looked like attempts at crude fences. Other, larger chunks of wood had scowling, snarling faces carved into them.
“Did they do this?” she asked. “The things?” Duc said nothing as he faced off against a carved face with sharp teeth and tree branches sticking out of its head like antlers.
They left Maël’s body behind. His head had been twisted around. She had heard of primates half the size of these things that were able to dislocate a man’s arm with just a jerk. A bigfoot towered over man. The one that killed Maël probably did so without even trying. That made her angrier.
Maël had been a good man. He had treated her well the few times they’d slept together. He had given her a jar of pickled beets that he’d found in an abandoned house in Saint-Bonnet-la-Rivière. She’d smirked and patted him on the shoulder. He’d looked so serious when he handed it to her. It almost made her laugh.
Duc crashed through the brush ahead of her. He wasn’t being quiet about where they were headed. He was that confident that they were gone.
