Mountain air in our lungs, a hearty sausage-and-home-fries, fire cooked meal inside us both. A last wipe of oil along our bolt action Berettas — the two big bores we’ve entrusted for our try at the trophy racks.
“I’ve only seen, or rather felt, the devil once, in a dog I found. I had to get rid of it right away, though I love animals.”
Robert Bresson
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