the slaughter of our wolves (a little less action, a little more conversation)
SOMEWHERE TO THE EASTWARD a wolf howled; lightly, questioningly. I knew the voice, for I had heard it many times before. It was George, sounding the wasteland for an echo from the missing members of his family. But for me it was a voice which spoke of the lost world which once was ours before we chose the alien role; a world which I had glimpsed and almost entered, only to be excluded, at the end, by my own self. [Read more] “the slaughter of our wolves (a little less action, a little more conversation)”