Spring 1947 – A Change in Temper

The sheep had been torn asunder. There appeared to be four carcasses but, with the fog and their scattered state, I could not be sure of the exact count. I squatted to examine a nearby leg. 

Jane Liverly covered his mouth and closed her eyes. Through her hand she said, “It can’t have been dogs done this. I know all the dogs for twenty miles. It’s got to be a wolf.”

I frowned at her. I said, “I would assume that you would know if there were a wolf in England.”

I held up the leg and pointed to the bite marks. I said, “Whatever did this killing had fangs but did not have a wolf shaped mouth.” I pointed to the gore soaked mud and said, “It also walked on two legs.”