It was freezing cold in the stubble, but Grandma brought the littlies out anyway. They stood in a line looking at the smoke from the pie plant.
It was Joah who broke the silence.
“Looks warm over there.”
“Aye,” Grandma spat a stream of yellow saliva onto the frozen ground. “I dare say it is.”
“So why don’t we go there?”
“Because we like being alive.”
For a long moment nobody spoke, then a thin scream came to their ears on the fitful breeze.
“Sure is. Some poor soul lured in out of the cold. Pie meat now.”