Nova Peak revolution deathsquad

the stranger tensed at his approach. briefly cowed, abraham fell back, his ears cinched close to the sides of his long face.

but there they were, wild pigs in the distance. coarse chestnut hair. soft, wet grunts. the skin around their noses and mouths shining as if rubbed in grease.

the backs of their hind legs smeared in excrement. cloven feet. their thick smell. pairs of baleful, black eyes in blunt skulls, as if pierced by awls.

he wavered between contemplation and disgust. his eyes found an old pig, its pelt turning rime-grey, but its body heavy-set and girded with industry, with a stubbornness inculcated deep in its bones. the broken ends of its tusks jutted from either side of its mouth, forcing it into a smile; but the rest of its face was utterly affectless.

he watched as a thin string of drool extended over its bottom lip, swaying with every one of its languid movements.