A shrill voice echoed in the mist. The beast had come, like it had so many times before. Windell saw the open-mouthed fear in the tribesmen and stayed eagerly behind them, clutching his Snider rifle as they pushed through the brush, thick jungle leaves over their heads. Leaning down he tried to see through the foliage, a fleeting attempt to catch a glimpse of the beast or its unwitting victim Read More