Американские боги

           Thenyousmokethesmallbodyovercharcoalfiresuntilitisproperlydried,andyouwrapitinfursandcarryitwithyoufromencampmenttoencampment,deepintheBlackForest,sacrificinganimalsandchildrentoit,makingittheluckofthetribe.When,eventually,thethingfallsapartfromage,youplaceitsfragilebonesinabox,andyouworshipthebox;untilonedaythebonesarescatteredandforgotten,andthetribeswhoworshipedthechild-godoftheboxarelonggone;andthechild-god,theluckofthevillage,willbebarelyremembered,saveasaghostorabrownie,akobold.

           ShadowwonderedwhichofthepeoplewhohadcometonorthernWisconsinahundredandfiftyyearsago,awoodcutter,perhaps,oramapmaker,hadcrossedtheAtlanticwithHinzelmannlivinginhishead.

           Andthenthebloodychildwasgone,andtheblood,andtherewasonlyanoldmanwithafluffofwhitehairandagoblinsmile,hissweater-sleevesstillsoakedfromputtingShadowintothebaththathadsavedhislife.

           "Hinzelmann?"Thevoicecamefromthedoorwayoftheden.

           Hinzelmannturned.Shadowturnedtoo.

           "Icameovertotellyou,"saidChadMulligan,andhisvoicewasstrained,"thattheklunkerwentthroughtheice.IsawithadgonedownwhenIdroveoverthatway,andthoughtI’dcomeoverandletyouknow,incaseyou’dmissedit."

           Hewasholdinghisgun.Itwaspointedatthefloor.

           "Hey,Chad,"saidShadow.