Consider it done, he thought, but kept going. Dark autumn night was blanketing the sky, trees lost their bright colours. After the huge anthill he turned left and almost lost his balance. There were remains of huge moose, and he suddenly realised that his tired feet were mingled with the bones of the rear of the beast. Sweetsour stench of the carcass curled in the back of his mouth and he had to throw up, so violently that he tripped and fell over the antlers. One spike tore his throat. Nature has no morals, he thought. And then came ants.
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"Classic"
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