[Culling animals isn't something Barbara experienced at home, but there were no humans to throw the predator-prey balance out of whack. Living in the woods as she does, she's certainly noticed how cramped things are getting--moreover, how the verdant forest has been getting rather patchier in spots.
She's been using the logic of "if it can get away from me, it lives," and at Zidane's inquiry she rises from the shrubbery, holding a dead pheasant. It's clearly seen better days; she doubts it managed to breed this season.]
II
She's been using the logic of "if it can get away from me, it lives," and at Zidane's inquiry she rises from the shrubbery, holding a dead pheasant. It's clearly seen better days; she doubts it managed to breed this season.]
Old. Still meat. Want?