Jethack Piperr

One miss of a step and the heart is on the line. Predators await in the shadows, waiting for your last dying breath, and when its gone, like vultures in the dead lands, they swoop down and tear you apart and ravaged you like hungry coyotes. After the feast of death, crows cry in the wind and take what is left. You lay there in the dust, bones dried up like the desert lands. A game of survival. A game of life and death.