Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

stretched long. The light pulsed again and again. He took a step toward the
front of the shop, only to bring a hand to his chest.
The hook. The cable.
They felt dead.
They were dead.
“What is this?” he whispered.
He reached the closest window, looking out to the front of the tea shop,
squinting against the bright light that lit up the forest, shadows dancing.
A vague shape stood out on the dirt road. As the light faded, the shape
filled in, and Wallace saw it for what it was.
He remembered the brief glimpse he’d seen in the forest the night he’d
tried to escape. The outline of a strange beast that he’d managed to convince
himself was just a trick of the shadows.
Not a trick.
It was real.
And it was here.
There, standing in the road, was a stag.