Solivagant
by Angela Slatter
It’s Monday morning when Magda Doubinsky discovers all her chickens are dead. Slaughtered Every egg crushed too. A poultry genocide. Even from here I can see the bright red flecks on the snow. Not just near the ramshackle coop, but scattered the length and breadth of the front yard. Feathers too, although only the dark-coloured […]


