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384 pages, Paperback
First published February 10, 2015
Many heroic actions and chivalrous adventures are related of me which exist only in the regions of fancy. With me the world has taken great liberties, and yet I have been but a common man.
— Daniel Boone
All moved backwards now, there is no forward. A smell of wolf. Wolf's stomach. This is where I am again, then. I sigh and sink and the stinking wolf stomach cradles me in pieces. And I am so glad.
But the word will not let me be.
I flap my baby wings a little, this is the way my arms feel, weak as a new chicken's wings fresh out of the egg. They hurt to move, they hurt to unbend. I am trying to pull myself up out of the wolf's gut and its gullet, out of its throat and over its lolling tongue. The smell is sharper here, and the gate of the teeth is sharp.