_ moved closer to the ground. A wounded bird had fallen on a pile of dirt. Black legs rose from below and tore at its feathers. Rotten nails clipped the wings off the creature. The fowl squealed one last time before falling into darkness. The dark limbs followed the bird’s descent. I placed my ear against the soil and heard the heat of battle _
– F H Hakansson
F. H. Hakansson 
Jag ska fan ha betalt för denna bilden. Jag är ju för fan fotomodell! 😀
Haha! Du kan få en gurka 🙂