The wolf was dying in the same way everything dies in Oakhaven: slowly, quietly, and with the kind of dignity that comes from having no audience for your suffering.
Silas Beauregard found it on the edge of the old Vance plantation, where the cotton fields had given way to scrub and the scrub had given way to nothing, the way Southern land always gives way to nothing when the people who knew how to tend it are dead or gone or too proud to admit they need help. The wolf was white, which in Mississippi is either a miracle or a mistake, depending on who you...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 5 Views 0 Anteprima