Alec tramped through the mud, last night’s rain still lingering in a stifling mist, the kind that could soak a person to the bone within minutes. He stopped at the gate to adjust the sign– it was hanging wonky again, swinging from a single nail in the rotting wooden post. Trespassers will not be tolerated, it read.
Once he was satisfied he set off across the field, following his usual trodden-down path towards the new scarecrow. Just as well it had come along when it did—the old one had been falling apart at the seams, well beyond repair. Instead of warding off birds, though, it seemed to be attracting them; the black feathery bastards were swarming around its head and shoulders, beaks tearing at whatever they could reach.
Alec waved his arms with a yell and the crows dispersed, one of them with a stringy clump of red meat and sinew hanging from its maw. He gagged a little at the smell—that was getting worse by the day, he noted, covering his mouth and nose with one gloved hand.
At least the damned thing had finally stopped screaming.
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