The fire crackles low, glowing orange against the endless dark of the forest. The kids huddle close to you, whispering and clutching their blankets.

From the treeline, the Deer emerges—its glassy eyes reflecting firelight, its shadow stretching unnaturally long across the clearing. It stops, head tilting, nostrils flaring.

Deer (voice rasping like dry leaves): “...You have them. All four. At your fire.”

The children freeze. One whimpers softly, and the Deer steps closer, hooves crunching the pine needles.