The Third Book Of The Dun Cow: Peace At The Last - Plot & Excerpts
His flights from tree to tree had always been pleasant performances. He had worn a beautiful, soft, glossy, orange-brown coat. His bushy tail was both an ornament and a practical snap for sudden turns. His ears were large and attentive. His eyes were shaped like almonds. His face and muzzle tapered into a flashing intelligence. Then Savagery broke forth from the dungeons under the earth, and slaughter entered Selkirk’s soul. Since then he has eaten the meat of the murdered. He has neglected to groom himself. He just doesn’t care. The Marten’s fur is whorled, clumped with frost and mud. His eyes are lusterless. He avoids a direct, focused sight, always casting his eyes to the side. His ears are clogged with wax, troubling his hearing. The dried blood of rotting carrion crusts his muzzle. The Vultures have spiraled down. Selkirk creeps forward, downwind of the black-clothed undertakers. As muffled as his ears are, he nevertheless can hear their hooked beaks tearing flesh from the bones.
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