More:
Jeren wasn't born into the town near the edge of the wood, but he has spent most of his life there, and even now he's treated like an outsider. He's never thought the myths about the forest held much water, and he's called the townsfolk out on their superstition on multiple occasions. Though the folk of the town don't much believe the myths either, they still give the forest a respectful berth, and his excursion into the woods was on something of a dare. Since he came back without any prize, he's unlikely to live it down anytime soon.

Sample:
"I swear I saw them!" He brought his fist down on the bar, rattling a nearby glass.

"Settle down, Jeren -- they're just teasing." The bartender, Sam or something, retrieved the glass without comment and swiped a dirty cloth over the patch of bar where it had been sitting.

Jeren set his jaw, but he didn't bother arguing the point, glancing sideways at the still-chortling pack of hunters. At least they were far enough into their mugs he wouldn't be a topic of conversation for long. He sighed.

"Hell, half of them are probably just surprised you knew how to fire that thing at all."

"Thanks, Sam."

The bartender chuckled. "Either way, I wouldn't go around advertising I saw the twins in the woods. They're some kind of preserve now, I think."

"Are you shitting me? They sent me off to shoot something in a preserve?" He dragged his hand down his face with a faint, low groan.

"Well, you didn't manage to, so you're at least clean on that count."

A weak laugh. "Actually, I think I did ..."

"How's that?"

Jeren hesitated, scratching his fingers through his shaggy hair and shaking his head. "I don't ... it's sort of hazy. It looked like a deer, but then it wasn't ... and then it started screaming."

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, slowly running the cloth over the same section of bar. "And you think it was one of the twins," he said finally.

"I ... maybe? After I shot the deer, it -- well, it didn't look like a deer anymore. It -- kind of looked like a woman. And then something knocked me over and the next time I looked there were two of them."

Sam let out a slow, soft whistle. "Jeren, you're telling me you shot one of the twins?"

"Maybe ..."

Jeren stared down at his hands, dangling limply in his lap. It had only been an hour ago, at most, but already the memory of it was strained by darkness, adrenalin and alcohol. He rubbed at one eye and looked up to see Sam staring at him, expression blank and grim.

"Uh, Sam?"

The man's attention snapped back to him. "Jeren, if you shot one of the twins, you're probably worse off than if you were dealing with the Feds."

Jeren looked at him blankly, then let out a sigh. "Ah," he said heavily. "Shit."