BOOK TWO

On the other side of the field from where the hunters sat huddled in a bush, a ghostly animal wandered out of the dark and began chewing on the willow growing in the meadow.

"Damn, look at that!" Bob whispered and pointed into the dusk.

"We only have about ten minutes of hunting time left," Frank peered into the dimming light. "Don't waste it."

"But the moose is white!" Bob said, "Maybe it's diseased."

"It don't look diseased," Frank sighted ...