The hunter stepped into the lodge; his face ashen. Jenny looked at him from behind the reception desk–today, she tied her blonde hair on top of her head and secured it with a yellow number-two pencil.

“Are you OK, sir?” she asked the hunter, looking at him over the top of her black rimmed glasses. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I wish it was a ghost I saw,” he panted. “It would be easier to explain. But what I came across this morning, out there, was just horrible.”

“Oh my,” Jenny said, coming around the desk. “Can you tell me?”

“I sat in the thicket,” he started, “waiting for him to come trudging through. I studied him for weeks and had my ducks in a row. I heard him coming and he was on me before I knew it. His red eyes glowed and he foamed at the mouth. And yes dammit, I pissed my pants.”

Jenny ran back around the reception desk. She ripped off her glasses, pulled the pencil from her hair, then swung her head from side to side. She picked up the phone and said. “Get the Pig-mobile ready, the were-moose is back.”

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