“Just moments before he’d observed her with equal fascination as she’d run the blade of her knife about the dead lamb’s neck, hooves, and rump, then peeled the skin from its body, drawing it over its head like a jumper.“You’d best bury that one,” she’d said to him as she turned the skin back the right way round, her small hands as bloodied as a butcher’s. Albrecht took the raw body, mottled with globules of fat, wearing its head like a mask, and dug a shallow grave down beside the river. When he... returned Sarah was still preparing the orphan lamb, slipping its legs through those of the skin jacket. She pulled the new coat tight over its back, making sure it covered the tail where the ewe would smell to recognise her own offspring. Brushing a strand of hair from her eye and tipping back on her haunches, she inspected her work. The skin still hung loose about the lamb’s midriff.“I’ll need some string,” she said. “Hold it for a second, will you?”Albrecht knelt beside her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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