As Bruno stood in the doorway of the cabin, the wind hit him in the face like sharp knives. The sheep needed to come in to pasture soon or they’d get lost in this winter chill. Bruno turned to his wife, tugged his beard, “Well, guess I better head outdoors!” His wife said nothing as she stirred the leek and lamb stew bubbling over the propane stove, but she did smile. Smiled at what she had done, smiled at the memory of the call she made last night, smiled at the pervasive screams of Bruno as he was axed to death outside their cabin. Judy smiled as she brought the wooden spoon to her lips to taste the broth.