81.

A herd of giraffes breakfasts along the savanna. Its many tongues undulate like pink, graceful snakes through the canopies of pale green trees, coiling around leaves, the occasional berry. She receives a D minus on her biology report, cringes at the thought of her father’s reaction, then vows then and there to save up the next three summers’ worth of part-time money to fund a big game, one-woman Safari of Revenge. Thunderheads stalk the grasslands from the west; the animals lope about nervously, the inevitable storm fiercely alive in their hearts.

grh

 

 

 

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