Cries of the wolves are muffled through the legs found in their mouths. Watching from over the horizon, the pack gnarl their teeth and sniff out the air down there. The playing field has changed and a new entrant has taken to the game.
And then a crack.
Gun fire from over the range ushers the shouting of men behind the scattering of others. Distractions are the bane of those living on a prayer. Half way to there, nowhere and it's a smattering of despair that leaves the lucky few counting their pot of charm.
Mayhem fuels the pace and the erratic nature of the unknown adds that extra element of excitement. Screams and shouts are still the norm. The hint of blood tripping the uvulas makes it much more sweet. There's too much noise, far too much noise.
Of course, it's all a mess and the clarity is much to be desired.
Written on Wednesday, 7 June 2006