Yang Hu squatted on the ridge of the field, picked up a handful of soil with his rough fingers, put it to the tip of his nose and smelled it. The setting sun stretched his shadow long, like a black sickle across the wheat field. He frowned. This was the third time this week - another sheep of the Wang family at the west end of the village died. Like the Li family's chicken and the Zhang family's dog two days ago, the body was so shriveled that it seemed as if all flesh and blood had been drained away, leaving only a layer of skin covering the bones.
