She’s gonna call the cops when she sees the deer’s head sticking out of the wall. I’m in the middle of hiding my “Hunt or be Hunted” book when the doorbell rings. Before I reach the door, I notice that my bow is resting by the fireplace next to the tips of arrows which still have dried blood on them. I leave them in place, already waving the white flag, and fling the front door open as the gust dries every bead of sweat on my forehead.