Hiking on the Clock (Fen part 3)

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Horse bits strewn, bones and hair. A skull, a jaw, a tail, etc. scattered along the east bank of Black Bear Lake. The blood crusted in the dirt, entrails long digested. They pack you in; you blow them up. One stick of dynamite carefully placed, carefully lit. Light it up and equestrians be gone...running on foot. Bobcat tracks in the mud flats, Great Horn calls through the lodgepoles, s... Read Full Entry

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