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In the Valley stories

Here in the Luangwa Valley there were always birds and insects busy. They
rustled and rummaged among the dry- season grass and fallen leaves, or sang
from branches in the thorn scrub. This afternoon there was fear over everything
and everyone, like a strong spell. Larger animals had left the area, which might
be because of the gunfire. Smaller creatures must be here still, hidden like
himself. Death walked today in the bush. Raw liver and whiskey churned in his
stomach. Rustles ...