Slow Turns the World
“Ch. 5 V. 12 The beast lay disembowelled upon the beach. Crabs scuttled and fed greedily on the putrefying flesh while bloated flies swarmed around the maggot-eaten eyes. The great buffalo head lay nearly ripped from the torn body which showed marks of slashing and tearing by jaws both huge and cruelly sharp. The cove was a narrow arc bounded by steep tumbled slopes that rose from shadow into sunlight. It was a red light, a sunset hue that warmed the jagged mountaintops and soothed the g...reyness of their broken stone. The source of that light laid across the water, low in the sky, lower than the spires of stone, the distant mountains on the far shore, between which it hung and sent forth a radiance that turned the sea to churning orange.
Three men approached the corpse, each casting a stretched shadow across the sand. One stopped, repelled by the wall of sickening stench, and of the other two, only the tallest crouched to look closely at the ripped carcass. The dead beast was a barak and it was the life of their tribe.MoreLess
Three men approached the corpse, each casting a stretched shadow across the sand. One stopped, repelled by the wall of sickening stench, and of the other two, only the tallest crouched to look closely at the ripped carcass. The dead beast was a barak and it was the life of their tribe.MoreLess
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