"I stumble across the sea of tarmac, finding pavement, concealment and a brick wall. Palms brace against the scrubby surface. My stomach churns and then bubbles over, burning my throat as acrid yellow ..."
- Rebecca Clare Smith
"The second wolf dove straight into the free platter. Fibres of flesh ripped apart with the same terrible tearing sound of sacking stretched and broken. Red sprayed. Limbs flailed. The bloody gurgle of..."