He is at once more alone than he has ever been; he was at first with his father, until he died; then with Claire, until she disappeared with another man into a more normal life in town; and then with Hobbes, who eased the sorrow of Claire s departure. Now Hobbes is gone.

Julius is left with what his father left behind: the cabin that he was raised in; a lifetime of books, lining every wall of his home, which have been Julius s lifelong friends and confidantes; and his great-grandfather s rifle from World War I, which Julius had been trained to shoot with uncanny skill and with the utmost reluctance. But with the death of his dog, Julius s reluctance has reached its end. More and more, simply and furtively, it is revenge that is creeping into his mind.

Fresh snow is on the ground as the hunters lumber into his sights. They re well within the old gun s range. They pause, and they re locked into the crosshairs. Julius s finger traces the trigger. Will he pull it And what will that accomplish What if he simply has nothing left to lose