“I am debatably the oldest living cryptonaturalist, not a common topic of discussion. I daresay I am demonstrably the most knowledgeable, a very common topic of discussion. I am willing to say, with a fair degree of confidence, that the lupine creature you described is unknown and undocumented. In my community of inquiry, traditionally, a creature’s discoverer gets the honor of naming it. Well, naming it in human languages, you understand.”
Green did not understand.
Valentina smiled and the expression was part predatory cat, part evil fairy.
“It is…very exciting,” she added.
He felt sick. He felt he had made another mistake in entering this woman’s cabin, entering her world.
“If you are worried about Latinate naming protocols, set that worry aside. The absolute rarity of the creatures we study allows us to indulge in common naming conventions.”
“No, that wasn’t the first worry that came to mind.”
Valentina sipped from her steaming brass cup, the disquieting glee lingering in her eyes.
Green bent over and pressed palms to his forehead, trying to think of what to do next. His monster remained a monster, whatever semantic games Valentina wanted to play. An image of his campsite menaced his mind like a downed power line. A car with a shattered windshield and a back seat full of inadequate camping gear. Another night racing to meet him. A dead man crumpled on a dark roadside.
A gentle touch on the knee brought Green back to the moment.
“Mr. Green, I will be much more helpful to you if you think aloud.”
“I don’t know where to start. There are too many problems, and I don’t know what I don’t know and the main thing I’ve learned in the last twelve hours is that I am a danger to myself and a potential burden to others.”
His throat tightened.
Valentina gave a half shrug.
“If that is the case, it is better to know it than not. Yes?”
“It’s just…I used to know things.”
He barked out a joyless laugh.
“Or, well, I felt like I did. In my old life.”
“So? What brought you here?”
“That man died and Dancer said you were an expert in monsters…or cryptids…and I thought I had to warn someone about the wolf.”
“No, Mr. Green, I mean why did you come to these mountains. To this camp? Candle-Fly is not a popular destination.”
The acorn had its own gravity, tugging Green off-balance as he considered the question.
“Something happened.”
“Mmm. Something often does.”
“This felt like a big something. Okay? And I knew, without a doubt, I just needed to get away. To, I don’t know, reconnect with nature. It didn’t feel like a choice. I just needed to get back to fundamentals. Whatever the hell that means.”
“Not unreasonable. Not unheard-of. Rather traditional, actually. Why here?”
Green tried to think. His attention felt jerked in a dozen opposing directions.
“I mean, I did research. I looked at maps, pictures, satellite photos. I read the story of the geography. The Appalachians. The Catskills. This region. The Catskills were in a book I loved as a kid. I don’t know. This was just the place. It felt obvious. At least, it did at the time. But everything about the last day and a half has been screaming at me that this was all a mistake.”
Valentina set aside her cup.
“To review. Something happened. You felt called to the wilderness and then, specifically, to this area. Upon arriving, you failed utterly at the basics of woodcraft and passed a harrowing night during which you became the seventh person on record to see the glass fawn, and discovered a hitherto undescribed cryptid. In the morning, Dancer encouraged you to call upon your only neighbor, who happens to be one of the foremost cryptonaturalists on the planet.”
