Let me tell you a few words about Burrowood. It was a town in the middle of nowhere. Not too big, not too small. On a map, anyone could mistake it for a stain. A spit in the face of green woods. It existed mainly because of lumberjacks, hunters, and people seeking refuge in general. City folks in need of healing, inspiration, or the ones who needed to dissapear. Simply put, everyone here was either weird, born here, or slightly broken. I would know, because all of them would eventually end up in my inn.

  Much like the fellow who just closed the door. Except this one was not one of the locals. Tall, sporty build. Brown hair, green-ish eyes. Mustache and beard, not really well kept. Practical clothing in shades of green and brown. Forest mud on the boots. Two duffel bags in hands, plus one backpack. A tourist seeking sights, or thrill of the hunt. Probably both.

  "Welcome to the Silver Fox Inn! In for a drink or seeking shelter in this late hour?"

  "Hello. I would like both if possible." Slavic accent caught my ear. Maybe Polish, maybe Slovak. Not smoothened by the USA yet. Interesting. Reminded me of good old times.

  "Yes of course! For how long will you stay?"

  "Just tonight. And vodka...if you could..."

  Vodka. Safe choice. I’d been hoping for something more distinct — a hint to tell me which corner of Europe he’d wandered out of. Back in my travels, I’d learned you could almost guess the country by the booze. But vodka? That was the universal passport

  "Comin right up!"

  "Thanks."

  I didn’t ask for details, not yet. He’d talk on his own once he drank his fill. It would take time. But I am a patient hunter.

  He stayed, drank in silence. Even when all the locals went home — some exchanging meaningful glances over our new guest. Some people would be wary of them. Some even afraid. People with high sensitivity to energies, open third eyes and stuff like that. This one… apparently wasn’t one of them.

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  "In for the start of hunting season?" I approached him, handing over another shot.

  "Kinda. I'm here because of your bear problem."

  "We don’t have any."

  "...How do I say this... You have one now. One of your elder citizens was found mauled near the main road. Your old ranger quit on the spot. And just like that, I am here."

  Okay, this was not what I expected. At all. My mind raced. Whose grandpa hadn’t I seen in a while?

  "Do you happen to know the name of this elder?"

  He thought, lips tracing letters. "Eli… Eieli…"

  "Eilias?!" I breathed out, a mix of surprise and something else. Fear.

  "Yeah, sounds like it. Did you know him? My condolences."

  "I… did know him. He was... something like my boss...kind off. ...Was there… anything unusual at the site?"

  He thought again. Hard. "Actually, now that I think about it... There were no signs of decomposition on the site. No flies, no smell, nothing. Strange, isn’t it?"

  I almost let out a groan of frustration. He wouldn’t know, but that wasn’t the answer I’d hoped for. In the case of Eilias, that was not strange at all!

  "Real mystery, that one. Do you perhaps remember anything else out of the ordinary?”

  “No… Generally, it wasn’t a pleasant sight. Never seen a bear capable of something like that. On the other hand, I hadn’t seen a grizzly yet either—”

  “Then what the hell are you doing here?!” I asked, despite already knowing the answer. Whoever was in charge of the forest service didn’t have anyone capable right now. What they did have was a tough-looking Slavic immigrant no one would look for if he’d gone missing. And boy oh boy did people go missing after moving to Burrowood! Especially the forest service, who wandered around all day and spent his nights in a secluded cabin.

  Usually, I didn’t intervene. But I was in a good mood, and this guy might know more than he thought.

  “A little word of advice,” I said, looking straight into his eyes. If he saw anything in mine, he hid it well.

  “Tomorrow night. And every night after that. Don’t stay out after sunset. No matter what happens, don’t open your doors or windows. If someone offers you food or drinks, decline. Got it?”

  I stared into his face a moment longer, until he nodded, looking surprised.

  “Good. Now go and sleep. Here’s your key. Up the stairs and to the right. You can go now."

  With the same surprised expression, he did just that. Tomorrow he’d convince himself that it was just the booze that made him obey.

  I made a note to myself about his nonexistent mental fortitude, and sighed into the empty bar.

  “Yup. This guy is already dead.”