The forest floor, illuminated only by what radiance of the half-moon filters through the branches, is like a black spiderweb with intermittent patches of pale blue light, perfect for disappearing. You're no horse scientist, but you know that old-timey soldiers used to run down peasants on those things, and you don't want that happening to you—especially since this horse has fangs. You duck a scything hoof and leap over a patch of dirty snow, then slide boots-first under a fallen pine, vanishing into the darkness.
It's completely black here, forcing you to rely on smell. But that horse-thing has a nose, too, so you creep carefully backward over the hard-packed snow, not making a sound as you maneuver upwind. But the monster knows you haven't fled. It ranges back and forth, snarling through bloody lips, stamping its sharp hooves.
It'll find you soon. Knowing you have to act fast, you settle an arrow on the bow and pull back on the string. The horse-thing hears the sound of your synthetic parka and turns, but doesn't have time to dodge, and the arrow hits it in the neck.
But it still charges. You get another arrow nocked just as the monster brings its hooves down, smashing your chest and slamming you to the ground. Its trampling hooves shred your parka and rip open your torso and stomach. When it rears up, you roll to avoid being crushed, then grab your bow and raise it again. The horse-thing momentarily loses you in the blackness. Trying to ignore your broken ribs, you set another arrow on the bowstring. The monster spots you, starts to turn…
You catch it in the eye with the next shot. It drops, spasms wildly for several seconds, hurling droplets of blood onto the snow, and then finally lies still. You rise stiffly and stare at the black heap, almost invisible in the shadows. It's dead.
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