Genre - Short Story. You are on the page - 117
"As she turned to open the car door she froze as she saw on the silvery ribbon of the road three dark shapes close, and for a moment, menacing like grown men with their hands held up. Then they shifted position and she saw the sheen of the moon on their flanks and the antlers, branch like, against the sky. Red deer stags, cautious, stopping to check her out as they crossed the road. One of them coughed. Their hooves clicking delicate steps they moved off slowly, a faint swishing of the
βAre not our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan really a form of tourism, and our Aid missions in Africa?β βHow can you say that?β spluttered Freda. βIsnβt it true we are getting sensory inputs from these things? In the case of war - fear, adrenalin ? In the cased of Aid Work - a sense of nurturing, caring, feeding, the need to be needed? βItβs a very cynical view,β said Birna. βHe has a point,β said Allan Bitter, βlet him continue.β He had a soft spot for Andrew. Both had similar backgrounds;