Feeding. Fighting. f*****g.
That phrase of Grant’s kept coming back to me. To reduce human existence—all existence, for that matter—to three basic items. It seemed too cynical to be true. It seemed like an absurdist’s diatribe. And yet, what was this landscape I was in now if not the most absurd thing imaginable?
Another shaking of the ground. This time worse than before. Worse than I would have thought possible. The ground went up and down quickly, a vibration like a washing machine with an unbalanced load. Then it shook sideways, knocking me to the ground. My head struck the moss. My neck hurt from the weight of the horn. I waited for the rumbling to stop.
After what seemed longer than possible, it did stop. With my ear to the ground, I heard things. The worms were rustling around dow
