I listen to them celebrating, laughing. Smell the stench of cooking flesh on the fire and know I will never eat meat again. I can't get the buck's face out of my head, the way his liquid brown eye met mine, the connection I felt to him. How I knew if I could only have enough time I could find a way to speak his language, to understand the changes done to him and his kind by the Sick. Could he have been as smart as the dog? It's quite likely, if the herd of horses who followed the ...