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{|align="right" style="width:200px; background-color:#fff; border:1px solid #000;"
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!style="border-bottom:1px solid #333;"|Artikel über Tiere
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|-
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|align="left"|<big>'''• [[Bienen]]'''</big>
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|-
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|align="left"|<big>'''• [[Hunde und Katzen|Hunde & Katzen]]'''</big>
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|-
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|align="left"|<big>'''• [[Möwen]]'''</big>
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|-
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|align="left"|<big>'''• [[Spinnen]]'''</big>
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|&nbsp;
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|-
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|align="left"|<big>'''• [[Tierhorror]]'''</big>
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|-
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|align="left"|<big>'''• [[Desperation: Tierhorror|Desperation]]'''</big>
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|}
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The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.
 +
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The desert was the apotheosis of all deserts, huge, standing to the sky for what might
 +
have been parsecs in all directions. White; blinding; waterless; without feature save for the
 +
faint, cloudy haze of the mountains which sketched themselves on the horizon and the devil-grass
 +
which brought sweet dreams, nightmares, death. An occasional tombstone sign pointed the way, for
 +
once the drifted track that cut its way through the thick crust of alkali had been a highway and
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coaches had followed it. The world had moved on since then. The world had emptied.
 +
 +
The gunslinger walked stolidly, not hurrying, not loafing. A hide waterbag was slung around his
 +
middle like a bloated sausage. It was almost full. He had progressed through the khef over many
 +
years, and had reached the fifth level. At the seventh or eighth, he would not have been thirsty;
 +
he could have watched own body dehydrate with clinical, detached attention, watering its crevices
 +
and dark inner hollows only when his logic told him it must be done. He was not seventh or eighth.
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He was fifth. So he was thirsty, although he had no particular urge to drink. In a vague way, all
 +
this pleased him. It was romantic.
 
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Version vom 13. Juli 2008, 21:15 Uhr

Tiere Tierhorror Hunde & Katzen Spinnen | Bienen In Desperation
 
Artikel über Tiere
Bienen
Hunde & Katzen
Möwen
Spinnen
 
Tierhorror
Desperation

The man in black fled across the desert, and the gunslinger followed.

The desert was the apotheosis of all deserts, huge, standing to the sky for what might have been parsecs in all directions. White; blinding; waterless; without feature save for the faint, cloudy haze of the mountains which sketched themselves on the horizon and the devil-grass which brought sweet dreams, nightmares, death. An occasional tombstone sign pointed the way, for once the drifted track that cut its way through the thick crust of alkali had been a highway and coaches had followed it. The world had moved on since then. The world had emptied.

The gunslinger walked stolidly, not hurrying, not loafing. A hide waterbag was slung around his middle like a bloated sausage. It was almost full. He had progressed through the khef over many years, and had reached the fifth level. At the seventh or eighth, he would not have been thirsty; he could have watched own body dehydrate with clinical, detached attention, watering its crevices and dark inner hollows only when his logic told him it must be done. He was not seventh or eighth. He was fifth. So he was thirsty, although he had no particular urge to drink. In a vague way, all this pleased him. It was romantic.

V E Artikel über Tiere
BienenHundeKatzenMöwenRabenSpinnen

Desperation: TierhorrorOpfer von CujoTierhorrorWesen im Nebel