Ithmus leaned his rifle against the tree and took the loop of sturdy rope from his shoulder. Carefully, he tied the rope to the trunk and checked the knot on the large triple hook fastened to the other end. The bog was silent except for a few burps from the frogs sunning on the lily pads, and further back among the trees, he could hear the snapping of twigs from one of the area's small animals.

Holding the coil of rope in one hand, and swaying the big hooks in the other, he stepped down the bank to the edge of the stagnant marsh, and taking a deep breath, hurled the hook out into the centre of a mass of weeds, allowing it to sink, then dragging it back slowly.

With each pass he had to stop and untangle roots and plants from the hooks before throwing them in again, and after thirty minutes he had a messy pile of stinking weeds spread out around his feet. Ithmus moved up the bank slightly and tugged the rope out to its full length, throwing it as far as he could across the bog.

As he tugged it back, he let his fingers sense the different pressures, weeds pulling free, a sunken branch... then he felt it go taut. A band of sweat broke out across his forehead and his hands suddenly became slippery. Backing up slowly, he held the rope tight, winding it around the trunk of the tree each time it showed a little slack.

Suddenly the rope dropped to the surface, and he gave a mighty tug, afraid he would lose his quarry, but his foot slipped on the slick weeds and he skidded down the bank to the edge of the water. With a great sloshing splash, the creature's head and shoulders appeared above the surface, the hooks snarled in the leaves near its neck.

Ithmus yelped, dropping the rope, and scrambled up the bank to his rifle, levering a round into the chamber and swinging it around to aim at the creature. It was wading slowly through the plants and vines toward him, an oily, greenish black slime dripped from the mass of leaves that covered its body, pooling on the surface and smothering the leaves of the lily pads.

Ithmus couldn't hold the rifle steady; his mouth dried up and fell open in a silent scream, his wide, terror filled eyes meeting those of the creature; two red filled circles blazing from the cabbage-like head. It stopped at the edge of the water and raised its arms like huge, thatched wings, grasping the hooks by its neck and ripping them free.

A stream of reddish brown coursed down its body and a chilling moan sounded through the flaps of leaves around its mouth. Ithmus scrambled back further, dodging the hooks as the creature hurled them toward him. The rifle fell from his hands as he sought shelter behind the tree.

The moan came again, this time more plaintive, almost humanly sorrowful, and the twig-like hands reached toward Ithmus as though imploring him to help.

"Richard?" His voice cracked and wavered as he called down from behind the tree. "Richard?"

The creature clutched at the wound by its neck and sagged back into the bog, the moan changing to a high, keening sound. With a final look back at Ithmus, it sank below the surface and disappeared leaving the bog as thought it had never been disturbed.

Ithmus stood staring at the water for a long time, his fingers aching from gripping the tree trunk, his body trembling from head to foot. He let out a loud gasp, realizing that he had been holding his breath, and slumped down on his haunches, hanging his head between his legs.

*****

The Coleman lamp sputtered, dimming the flame for a few seconds, then resuming its warm glow. The four adults sat around the dining room table drinking coffee and talking softly so as not to disturb the children in bed.

"I couldn't see much by flashlight. We'll have another look in the morning."

"I wish you could have seen her hands, it looked like they'd been lacerated." Karen shook her head, relieved that the men were back.

"But she's been okay since you washed it off, right?"

"Yes. No, she's fine. There's no sign of anything. You should have seen them on the picnic, they had a ball, swimming and fishing."

"I just don't like the idea that whatever it was got caught in the door. It must have been trying to get in." Adrian sipped her coffee and looked pointedly at her husband.

"And you said they were leaves?"

"Yes... well, green, fleshy looking things shaped like long fronds. The stuff that was dripping out of them was gross." She shivered and made a disapproving grunt.

"Gene and I will go and see Gallow tomorrow, see if he has any ideas about what it might have been. Meanwhile, is everything else okay?"

The two women looked at one another, nodding," Fine. It's been fine."

"Well we're looking forward to some of the amenities now. That meeting was a real grind."

Gene laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Poor old Ken here nearly went ballistic when the client asked if we thought we'd found the best approach for his product launch."

"That jerk!" Ken snickered, "We've only spent three months researching the market, compiling a strategy, setting up his website and making the presentations. The guy approved everything every step of the way, then when we're ready to close, he asks if we think the site is a good one. No, stupid! It's www dot useless—like you."

"You didn't say that!" Karen looked shocked while the others laughed.

"No, but I wanted to."

"Well I'm tired, I'm going to bed." Adrian gathered the empty cups and took them to the kitchen sink.

"I think that goes for all of us," Gene agreed, "see you guys in the morning."

"Night all."

"Night."