The yellow eyes of the wolves circling our camp were a constant presence. Out with the boss-man chopping endless logs to be cut down into sleepers, we saw them looking at us; you know their intelligence is just waiting for one of us to be separated from the rest. So far, we’d only lost one man. We’d managed to find some dried geoduck tucked away in one of the kit-bags and had handed that over to the cooks for tonight’s meal. Curiously, despite the iron rails not being laid yet, we’d hear the faint noise of train whistles at night.
“Geoduck the noise of trains has yellow eyes chopping some logs”
G is for Geoduck
Prompts:
