Food PigI need food,” I said. “You know. Anything at all.”
“I’m hungry too,” Horace said.
“Follow me,” Gypsy said. She sniffed the air took off at a good trot.
We followed even though my spirit wasn’t up to it. I found myself shuffling like a zombie. I almost wanted to mutter, “Brains,” but didn’t. The day was getting brighter and I could see that the snuffler stomped-down part of the forest looked different from the burned part. It was browned by the heat, but not burned. I also noticed that the snuffler had turned to avoid the human trees. That’s why, I realized, the path would run straight and then curve.
Gypsy called out, “I found food.”
Gypsy came trotting up to us in the company of a modest pig. But the pig looked grotesquely wrong. It was covered in cancers. Large lumps all ove
