Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

CHAPTER
17
It was bigger than any stag Wallace had ever seen in pictures. Even from a
distance, the creature looked as if it would tower over all of them. It held its
head high, the many points of its antlers like a bony crown. As the stag
stepped closer to the tea shop, Wallace could see flowers hanging from the
antlers, their roots embedded into the velvet, blossoms in shades of ochre
and fuchsia, cerulean and scarlet, canary and magenta. At the tips of its
antlers were tiny white lights, as if the bones were filled with stars.
Wallace couldn’t move, a sound falling from his mouth like he’d been
punched in the gut.
The stag’s nostrils flared, its eyes like black holes as it dug its hooves into
the earth. Its hair was brown with white splotches along its back and
considerable chest. Its tail swished back and forth. As the stag lowered its
head, flower petals drifted down onto the ground.
Wallace said, “Oh. Oh. Oh.”
The stag jerked its head back up as if it’d heard him. It bleated softly, a
long, mournful cry that caused a lump to form in Wallace’s throat.
He said, “Hugo. Hugo, are you seeing this?”
Hugo didn’t answer.
The stag stopped a few feet from the stairs to the tea shop. The flowers
growing from its antlers folded in on themselves as if shutting away against
the night. The stag reared up on its hind legs. Its belly was completely white.
And then the stag was gone, a frame rate stutter, a glitch in reality. The
stag was there, and then it wasn’t.
In its place stood a child.
A boy.