The corpse of a Deer, legs crushed under a massive metre and a half thick log. Trapped in the shelter it had sought from the surf, head still twisted back in pain as the last bleat of complaint rattled out of it's exhausted lungs.
Now nothing more than a two week old skeleton wrapped in the last vestiges of rotting flesh. Yet even now you can still read the pain in the still wide open mouth and twisted neck, seeking surcease from the agony. Normally all we find of the seas vicissitudes are sea washed bones like these;
A caution against carelessness in this place where the dwellings of man are so close to the wild.
