The Cold Moons

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For a hundred generations the badgers of Cilgwyn had lived in harmony with nature, digging their setts and reciting their ancient lays to the young amongst the nodding bluebells and flowering blackthorn of their ancestral valley home - until a dying stranger limped into their midst. Bamber told of the coming of men to his own home many miles away, men whose scent had inexplicably terrified him, men armed with rifles and poison gas, who had slain his beloved Dainty and were advancing yet, destroying without mercy every badger colony in their path.