| Milchester lay asleep in the cool dark of an April night: dark exceptfor scattered squares of lighted windows here and there; silentexcept for the occasional rumble of traffic passing through, thesudden yowling of cats romancing, the clatter of raided bins in apub yard where a fox was after pickings. At the town s edge wherethe fields began sheep huddled like grey rocks in the gloom,keeping their lambs close and their ears alert to the small noises ofthe night: something hunting down the stream, the rattle of theyard-dog s chain at a nearby farm, the stirring of branches in asudden breeze. In one of the last houses at the edge of the town,human sleepers dreamed soundly in the quiet darkness. |
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