Chapter TwentyPeter’s frustration grew and he pulled the bow over his shoulder resting the shaft down his back leaving both hands free. He pulled the razor-sharp Bowie knife from its sheath, crouched low and made his way towards the ominous dark cloud. He entered the fog and could barely see three feet in any direction. The elk’s tooth began to glow on his chest and the tingling sensation flooded his senses.
He used his hearing and sense of smell to make up for his lack of vision. His nose picked up the pungent odor of stale sweat and m*******a and he heard twigs breaking as one of the bikers came closer. He stood on the balls of his feet and waited to pounce. A small breeze pushed the dark cloud aside for a brief moment and he saw Billy-Bob creeping along clutching a shotgun and strainin
