Moslem Pig Hunt

Zahra couldn’t help herself. She was fascinated by Timsar, her older sister’s husband. Of course she made no outward sign to him, or anyone else in her family, but she secretly counted the hours to his return each time he went out.

She had been away from the village studying art when Farah had married Timsar and from her sister’s letters had expected him to be a rather serious, boring man. But the first time she saw him she felt her heart pounding and drew her chador tighter in front of her and self consciously looked away.

Yet despite her feelings she still couldn’t understand how she had not only been so stupid as to share Timsar’s bed while Farah and her mother were at market but had also failed to hear their return in her ecstasy.

Of course it wasn’t Timsor’s fault. He was a man, while it was self evident that it must have been something she had said to him, or she had loosened her grip on her chador to make him aware of her femininity.

But Zahra still couldn’t believe it when her own mother roughly hustled her into her bedroom and threw her a thick black chador to put on instead of the light one she was accustomed to.

‘Why?’ she pleaded.

‘So it will not tear indecently when your stupid ugly skinny body is flogged’ her mother coldly replied.

‘But …’ stammered Zahra ‘but you wouldn’t flog me! Tell Farah I am ashamed and sorry. I shall leave and never return …’

‘The Provincial Court will pronounce the sentence, under the law it will certainly be flogging followed by death.’ said her mother, angrily ‘by stoning.’

Zahra suddenly remembered seeing, when she was about eight or nine, a woman tightly bound in black from head to toe being furiously whipped while strapped to a heavy chair then taken, barely conscious, to be buried up to her chest in a pit then bloodily despatched by a volley of heavy stones to her head.

‘But mother! It’s me, Zahra, your daughter. Just let me leave.’

‘I have but one daughter now’ her mother replied coldly. ‘Her name is Farah.’ With that she roughly pulled Zahra’s light chador open and off her head. As it was slipped off her, revealing the bright sky blue dress she wore beneath, Zahra ran to the door. But, by the time she had pulled it open towards her, her mother had dropped both the cloaks and managed to grasp her by the left shoulder. However Zahra desperately pulled free, her dress tearing open at the shoulder.

The villagers stared aghast at her running past them down the dusty street. Two men set off in pursuit but hesitated, then turned back, only a quarter of a kilometre from the village because it might be thought indecent for them alone to be pursuing a half naked young woman.

Zahra hadn’t considered which direction she was going. She soon stopped running, reducing her pace to a brisk walk which was easier on her already sore bare feet. She was heading towards the mountains, the stony track was gradually steepening. Looking around she satisfied herself no no-one was near before slipping out of the dress to sit at the side of the road naked apart from her panties while she carefully knotted the ripped fabric together so that it wouldn’t slip off her left shoulder when she put it back on.

Once she had dressed again she considered her situation. She couldn’t return to her own village now. Her best prospects lay with returning to the city and seeking help from her friends there, but that was over forty miles in the opposite direction. If she carried on in this direction she must soon come to another village. Perhaps she could hide nearby until dusk, then after dark she would be able to steal some more respectable garments, a chador and hijab and, perhaps, some shoes and some money.

Tired, hot and thirsty she trudged despondently on. She came upon a small village somewhat unexpectedly in a shallow dip after the road twisted between several rocky outcrops. Before she had time to take cover she was surrounded by half a dozen furious villagers.

The women pointed and screamed at her until an older man, who was apparently their Imam, held up his right hand for silence.

‘You offend Allah with your indecency!’ he said staring seriously at her.

A younger, strongly built, man walked slowly towards her then looked her up and down ‘Allah did not make your flesh so pale and tender for you to offer it to the world.’

‘Whore!’ a woman spat at her.

The shouts ‘Whore’ and ‘Devil’ were repeated and Zahra’s head was spinning with fear and exhaustion. In the city prostitutes were simply locked up for a few days, sometimes having husbands found for them. But here she feared these peasants might view whores in the same way as adulteresses or worse. She started shaking with terror and tiredness. But, in the city, foreigners were often excused failing to observe the dress codes and just asked to cover themselves, often even offered acceptable garments with which to cover themselves. In her confusion she suddenly blurted out ‘I’m a visitor to your country’ in what she hoped sounded like a foreign accent. To emphasize her claimed ignorance she added ‘I’m a Christian!’ but almost immediately had doubts as to whether that was wise.

The crowd fell into a shocked silence, many turning towards the Imam who stood calmly looking at her for several long seconds.

His silence as he contemplated her statement chilled her.

‘Christians!’ he spat.

‘Christians are filth.’ He paused. ‘They are animals even dirtier than swine, than the wild pigs that come down from the hills and destroy our crops and bring pestilence to our village.’

After that outburst he seemed lost for words.

Several of the menfolk shuffled uneasily as the other peasants’ eyes turned to them.

Finally one spoke ‘We drive the swine back up into the mountains’ then looked uncertainly at his companions.

‘Or get the Ghaznavis to shoot them’ said an older man rather queitly.

‘Why don’t we shoot them?’ queried a youth, without taking his eyes off Zahra.

‘Because we cannot touch the unclean carcasses to bury or remove them.’ explained the first man.

Zahra felt that things were getting beyond her control and looked back at the Imam.

‘Drive her off up into the mountains’ spat an old woman.

‘Yes!’ shouted a younger man. ‘Send her up to live with the rest of the pigs.

Zahra felt she had only one chance. ‘Yes, drive me away. Send me back to the city from which I so unwisely strayed’ she appealed directly to the Imam.

He looked from her to the small group of men. One coughed nervously.

Zahra sensed her chance slipping away. ‘Please, servants of merciful Allah’ she said, almost crying.

‘Once up in the mountains we could shoot her’ the youth suggested.

Zahra sank to her knees, sobbing.

‘Drive her up into the hills!’ the old woman persisted.

A stone struck the dry dusty ground inches from her, she saw a woman holding a stone in the air ready to hurl it. Seconds later yet another hit the side of her rib cage. A smaller pebble struck the back of her head. The crowd was now murmuring angrily. She got to her feet and ran. She needed to circle round the mob and head back downhill, but no matter how she twisted and turned they continued to force her uphill. With cold horror she realised three of the men were carrying ancient looking long barrelled rifles slung on their shoulders.

Several sharp stones had drawn blood, one cut just above her right eye particularly troubled her, she kept having to wipe the blood away with the back of her hand. Her thin dress was clinging to her back, damp with warm sweat from the baking afternoon sun while her open mouth was so dry with thirst that she couldn’t spit out the dust she had breathed into it.

Unable to outflank her pursuers she could only try to outrun them up the steepening hill. But she was tired, hungry and thirsty. Her feet were painfully cut and bleeding and she stumbled and fell. She lay face down, exhausted and panting rapidly, but then feeling more sharp stones striking her calves and the small of her back, she struggled first onto her hands and knees, then back to her feet and she staggered on uphill.

With relief she realised that the light was fading and hoped they would soon give up their pursuit. As the red sun sank beneath the horizon the air cooled rapidly, the sweat soaking her dress adding to the chill.

As darkness fell she could only make out four or five men still following her. There was no moon, though the stars shone bright in the clear sky. She stopped and listened, she heard her tormentors nearby, looking back she could make them out standing still only about 30 metres away. She bent forward, hands on her knees trying to get her breath back. They came no closer but just stood motionless watching her.

After about five minutes Zahra wearily sat down. A few moments later two of the men also sat, still watching her. Shivering she pulled her knees up to her chin, but the cold clammy cloth of her dress stretched across her back then tore down from one of the rents made by a sharp stone thrown at her. Despite the dark one of the standing men noticed that and declared ‘Look, the infidel is exposing even more of her evil flesh to tempt the devout sons of Mohammed!’

In disbelief she saw one of the men was raising his gun to his shoulder. Tears welled in her eyes but she kept her mouth determinedly shut, for when she spoke she only seemed to make things worse! As she heard a loud click she lost control of her bladder and soiled herself, her urine soaking the ground beneath her buttocks and feet.

Then she recognised the authoritative voice of the Imam, she hadn’t realised he was still there, ‘No! She is but an animal, an unclean swine. The offence to Allah is that she dares to wear, or try to wear’ he added with a sneer, ‘clothes at all.’

There was silence after that. A few minutes later she heard someone hacking at a clump scrubby trees slightly further down the hillside. A man returned bearing a couple of long sticks, a lot taller than him. He stood before her, alongside his companions and carefully sharpened the ends of the sticks with his janbiya.

He handed one to his companion before advancing cautiously towards her. She stayed still. He reached forward, cautiously probing around her right shoulder with the sharp point of the stick. He suddenly jabbed it forward beneath the fabric then, with a twisting upward movement tore the dress off her shoulder. The man with the other stick had walked around her left side, he too now probed towards her with the sharp point. He suddenly jabbed it hard into the side of her rib cage, piercing both the dress and Zahra’s skin. She closed her eyes tight and tried not to scream. He pushed the sharp point on across her ribs below her breast, then he moved across in front of her so the stick ripped open the front of her dress, to fall to her waist baring her waist and belly, with thin beads of blood slowly trickling down. The first man then pushed the point of his stick past her knee and pressed it into her right breast. He pushed slightly harder and Zahra felt a sharp pain as the tip dragged down, slipping from her breast to jab her in the ribs, pulling her ruined dress down baring her breast.

She screamed.

‘Stop!’

Zahra staggered to her feet tearing the remains of her ruined dress from her body, throwing the damp, stained shreds of fabric towards her attackers.

She stood defiantly facing them, yet they remained impassive shadows in the dark. Feeling a warm trickle of blood running across her cold skin towards her hips she looked down at her body. For a second or two she watched the tiny dark rivulet until it reached her already fouled panties.

‘Damn you! Damn you all! ‘ she yelled before pulling down the tiny soiled panties and shaking her thin legs until they dropped into the dirt so she could step our of them.

She stood, shivering with her arms clasped round get chest, for several minutes. She could hardly make out the men in the dark. Eventually she sat down, she sensed that the rest of the men sat down too. After a few seconds she rolled onto her side in a foetal position. She was so cold. She curled tighter, she could hardly feel her fingers and toes, what she could feel was a numbing pain.

She awoke, still so cold. The morning sun felt warm on her back but the rest of her body was still numb with cold. After several minutes she lifted her head. Four of the men sat still watching her intently. Why had she allowed herself to sleep? She might have escaped from them during the night if they too had slept.

One stared at her for several seconds. He then casually got to his feet and looked about him. He took a couple of steps to the side, bent down then picked up a fist sized stone. Zahra watched him without moving, she did notice that the Imam was no longer with them.

The stone hit her just below her right hip. The sharp pain brought back her terror, her will to live. She twisted away from him and crawled onto her hands and knees. A sharper heavier stone struck her left buttock sending her sprawling face down into the dirt. She quickly scrambled to her feet and staggered a few steps away from them.

If they had been told to regard her unclean like a wild pig what would they do if she ran directly towards them? She stopped and turned to face then defiantly. But one was already holding his gun in front of him with both hands and immediately pointed it, aimed low, towards her. For several seconds they stood facing eachother.

Safdar stared at the creature facing him. Now it was daylight he was surprised how much she did indeed now resemble a wild animal. A wild panting creature with dry dust stuck to the streaks of sweat and blood staining its bare flesh. In contrast to his wife’s smooth rounded form every bone of this dirty naked creature seemed to be visible, its dry dull skin stretched tightly over its ribs. Although shocked and disbelieving at the time it did indeed now seem that the Imam had been right. This Christian unbeliever was indeed an unclean animal even worse than a pig. She scared him. He pulled back the bolt of his rifle and pointed it towards her. She looked as though she was going to, defiantly, step towards him. He put his finger on the trigger and prepared to squeeze it.

Zahra suddenly turned away and ran. Another of the men cast a particularly heavy stone after her, it struck heavily, and painfully, just below her left shoulder blade. Her slender arms flailed as she struggled to keep her balance. But she ran on, trying to ignore the throbbing pain which was making her short of breath. She was soon aware of a warm trickle of blood running down her back. The men behind her shouted and cheered as she strained to quicken her pace. She could now feel the warm blood flowing freely over her buttocks.

She painfully stubbed her right toe on a hard rock but didn’t slacken her pace. Another stone flew past just missing her outstretched arms. Risking a glance back she saw she was slightly pulling ahead of her pursuers. She scrambled on up the steepening hillside. The morning sun rose quickly in the sky and the heat dried her mouth as she gasped for breath. Zahra knew she was becoming dangerously dehydrated and must find water soon. The sun’s rays were starting to burn the bare skin on her back and shoulders which was unaccustomed to sunlight. She was reduced to scrambling on all fours in places but luckily the men driving her on were also tiring.

Now she had our a little more space between her and her pursuers she again tried to outflank them rather than be driven inexorably up into the mountains. Without slackening her pace she turned right into a small area of scrub oak which she also thought was the only place where she might find water.

The twisted shrubby trees grew more densely than she expected and as Zahra desperately scrambled and crawled over and through the low gnarled branches she realised she had made a mistake. The two men carrying guns skirted round the outside of the copse while the other two scrambled after her. Protected by their thick clothes they could force their way more easily through the dense shrub than the terrified naked girl.

Sharp broken branches raked Zahras ribs and tore at her thighs as she tried to force her way though a maze of boulders and the entangled branches of the misshapen dwarf trees.

She was stuck!

For a few seconds she just hung entangled in the web of branches, like a fly about to be devoured by a spider she thought. Then she felt a sudden sharp pain in her arse. Zahra screamed! She painfully twisted round to see that one of her pursuers had pushed the sharpened point of his 3 metre long stick between her bum cheeks and was grinning evilly at her.

‘No!’ she screamed.

Safdar slowly applied pressure to the stick. She felt the point tear at the soft skin surrounding her anus before entering it.

She screamed even louder. Careless of injuring herself Zahra stretched as far forward as her thin arms could reach to grab a sturdier bough and hauled her body forward, snapping off the branches in which it was enmeshed heedless of the broken ends slicing across her tender breasts and ripping skin from her rib cage. But she stuck again as a sharp broken stub caught the top of her left hip and buried itself into her flesh. As she stopped Safdar heaved forward on the stick again so it entered a few centimetres into her rectum, he laughed cruelly at the little spurt of blood which then turned into a trickle down the inside of her thighs. To his great surprise she suddenly broke free and staggered away from him the other side of the seemingly impenetrable mesh of branches. He stared in surprise at the broken end of several branches which were running with blood, showing how badly the pig must have maimed herself in her desperation to escape the penetrating point of his stick!

Through the tears streaming from her eyes Zahra saw what appeared to be a damp patch below a couple of the boulders amongst which the stunted oaks had grown. She threw herself face down into the wet mud patch and hurriedly scraped and dug with her hands looking for water. Finding none and hearing the shouts of her pursuers as they found an easier way into the wood from the other side she scooped handfuls of the wet gritty mud into her mouth and forced herself to swallow some.

Not daring to pause any longer she pushed her way downhill between the branches, scrambling recklessly over boulders, managing to find a way out of the little wood of dwarf trees downhill of the furious men who were still trying to find their way into it.

Barely able to keep her balance on the loose dry stones she ran at reckless speed. Seeing the girl well ahead of them in her escape back down the mountain Davoud raised his rifle to his shoulder, aimed as well as he could looking down the barrel, and fired.

Zahra didn’t see the bullet hit the ground less than a metre behind her, but the sound of the gunshot made her try to quicken her pace. Her painful, bloody feet slipped on the loose stones and she fell forward down the steep stone slope. She broke the fall with her hands and arms but in so doing cut the palm of her right hand down to the bone and ripped a deep gash in her thin left forearm.

‘She’s down!’ yelled Davoud excitedly. But moments later they saw their quarry stagger uncertainly to her feet and half run and half slide down the steepening hill. Davoud fired again, aiming too high this time.

Zahra found her run was developing into a slide as the loose stones beneath her feet started to slide with her, she had to put one hand on the ground to steady herself. Looking back she had put an even greater distance between herself and the men. She was going to escape! She just had to make sure she avoided their village on the way down. Looking forward again the ground seemed to disappear only ten metres ahead. She couldn’t stop! She slid feet first off the top of the cliff … the ten metre sheer drop seemed to last much longer than the two seconds it really was.

She hit the boulders below feet first. Her left knee totally dislocated painfully tearing apart the tendons and ligaments. Her right shin and fibula both snapped obliquely, the tips of the shattered lower halves bursting through the skin to stick out obscenly with the white, shattered, ends level with her knee.

She screamed! Not a human scream. A primeval wild animal scream. The scream of a dying wild boar.

The four men cautiously peered over the top of the cliff at the broken body sprawled face down below. Shining wet with blood and drying mud, in contrast to the arid rocks on which it lay. Both legs were bent at unnatural angles.

‘I think that pig will stay here in the mountains now!’ laughed Safdar as they turned away to head back to their village with the good news.

But Davoud slipped away from them and made his way round to the base of the cliff.

Davoud was not relgious like his neighbours, though he would never admit it to them that he no longer really believed in the power of Allah or the petty laws of the Islamic government. He had studied in Cairo and London and lived alongside students of all faiths and of no faith. He had got drunk at parties, slept with Western girls and even eaten hot dogs with pork sausages.

He walked up to her motionless body and stared down at it. He kicked her in the side, she groaned and clawed at the stony ground with thin shaking fingers. Davoud bent over her and rolled her onto her back. She stared up at him with wide dark eyes. He looked away from her accusing stare, down at her filthy blood streaked naked torso. She was badly cut about where she had forced her way through the low branches. There was a particularly nasty deep wound just above her left hip which was bleeding profusely.

For a moment he felt guilt at the damage they had caused to what had been such a beautiful pale slender body, but then reflected that the worst of the damage had been caused by the stupid woman’s own actions. All she had to do was run uphill! But no, she chose to crazily scramble through the wood then turn to run over the edge of a cliff. Looking at the shattered white bone and the growing pool of blood or was clear she couldn’t live for more than a few minutes. What a waste!

He grabbed her left ankle and pulled that leg away from the other one. The agonising pain as he further twisted her already dislocated knee made her arch her back, draw in her tummy so her lower ribs looked as if they were trying to burst through her skin and claw with both hands at the rocky ground. Watching her rapidly rising and falling chest he was surprised that she hadn’t screamed. He then carefully took hold of her right thigh and gently eased it aside too. As the shattered bones lower down that leg moved in the torn flesh she screamed. An inhuman scream. Davoud suddenly felt himself overcome with pity for this poor girl. The lust of the hunt had vanished and he felt a deep sadness and shame. His head told him he should act swiftly to put this poor creature out of its agony, a bullet between the eyes perhaps. Those wide dark tear filled eyes. No, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he stripped off his shirt and tore it into strips. The longest strip he tied round get waist in a futile attempt to stem the flow of blood from the deep open wound above her hip. He then tried to bind up her shattered right shin, but every time he touched that leg even slightly she screamed, and it was clear that the shattered bones could not easily be realigned with only 30 cm of mangled flesh remaining between her foot and her knee. Lying the remains of his shirt over covered the disgusting mess, though it immediately started to stain red with flowing blood.

Davoud had tears in his eyes as he walked away without looking back.

The moment the Imam first set eyes on Zahra, looking scared and confused, his heartbeat had quickened and he felt his face flush slightly. As he watched his fellow villagers hurl abuse at her he felt a stirring in his loin. When they turned to him for advice he was momentarily lost for words. He knew he had to have her. He cared about nothing else, as he struggled to work out a scheme so that he could get her alone. He struggled to maintain the outward appearance of piety as he hurled insults at her while feeling his cock stiffen.

The suggestion of driving her up into the mountains might well suit his purpose, as long as he could keep track of this alluring beauty.

He wondered if he had gone too far when he suggested she should be stripped of all vestiges of humanity, but his companions enthusiastically appeared to accept that suggestion as entirely logical.

At last he could just about make out her slender naked body in the gloom. But, alas, felt he would no longer be able to conceal his lust for this tempting siren so he reluctantly parted from his compatriots and waited and listened from further down the hill.

He thought he had lost them as they pursued the naked girl on up the hill under the baking morning sun. To ensure he wasn’t seen he was forced to leave their trail to put a small scrubby copse between him and the chase. He thought he had lost them. When suddenly he heard shouts not far ahead of him he was forced to hide behind a boulder as it seemed she might be heading straight for him. He heard gunshots, shouting, a terrible scream then silence for as short while then an even more anguished scream.

The Imam remained crouched behind his boulder until he was certain he had seen all four men making their way back down to the village, one some way behind the others. As they disappeared down the hillside he made his way to where he thought the screams had come from.

Zahra waited for the inevitable rape after Davoud had so painfully spread her legs. And she waited, feeling her life draining away like her blood flowing across the stony ground. She looked around her, realising that he had indeed gone.

Zahra wished she was in the cooler shade of the woods, she tried rolling onto her stomach to crawl there but even a slight movement of her hips sent agonising pain from her legs shooting the length of her body so she let her shoulders lay back on the ground and she stared up at the blue sky.

Then she heard footsteps approaching. She turned her head and saw the slightly stopping grey haired Imam cautiously approaching. Surely he should avoid her naked body. It was he who said she was unclean and should be driven away, and he he had relented and now finally considered her human then only females should tend and wash her corpse. Her corpse! Was that how she now thought of herself? With shock she realised the Imam was looking down at her with a leering grin. He started stripping off his clothes. She knew her legs were still spread wide as the other man had positioned them, but it was too painful to move them. She closed her eyes tight.

The Imam knelt, naked between her shattered legs. He no longer cared about the laws of his religion. The teachings of Mohammed were far from his mind as he looked at the body he had so desired spread before him. For a moment he wondered how this temptress had been able to make him so obsessed with her. Well, she was now going to receive her just punishment. He looked in disgust at Davoud’s crude attempts to bandage her wounds and hastily pulled away the blood soaked strips of fabric.

He so wanted to see those big alluring eyes again. He slapped her twice across the face and she opened her eyes and stared dully back up at him. His cock was rock hard. He had to fuck her. He had to get deep inside her. He had to hurt her.

He savagely thrust his stiff cock into her dry unready cunt. She screamed with pain. He grabbed both her thighs to spread her once shapely but now ruined legs wider. She screamed louder but hoarsely. He grinned as every muscle in her body spasmed. He thrust his cock as deep into her as he could, wishing he could get even deeper inside her. He watched her chest heave and strain in agony. He grabbed her tits and squeezed as hard as he could, trying to dig his fingers into the soft orbs. He delighted in her impossibly wide eyed and mouth as she rolled her head from side to side. He wrapped his arms round her dusty, bleeding torso and clasped her right to him. He thrust frantically, his cock ruling his mind. He cared for nothing else now, he was already in paradise. Yet he needed to get deeper into her. To enter and violate her very soul. He bent his head forward, to enter that wide enticing mouth with his tongue, ignoring the pathetic attempts of her weak thin arms to push him away.

Zahra suddenly saw her chance. As he pushed his foul drooling face towards hers she grasped his head with both hands and lifted her head towards him. He grinned as he thought she was actually trying to kiss him and was totally unprepared as she sank her teeth into his throat, biting deep into his windipe and severing his anterior jugular vein.

The Imam immediately realised he was mortally wounded with only seconds to live as he let the girl’s body drop back to the ground with his own bright red blood splashing across her chest. Yet in those few remaining seconds he only wanted to penetrate deeper into her body, blood still pumping vigorously into his penis even as it drained from his brain. He rammed his left hand deep into her mouth, ignoring the pain as she bit hard on it he continued to push down so his fingertips tore into the soft flesh of her gullet. As he grasped her hip with his right hand his thumb pushed into the deep wound to the lower side of he abdomen. As he again thrust his cock deep into her he moved his hand to brutally push his fingertips deep into the wound. With his cock’s final thrust into her he put his full weight behind his right hand so or further tore her flesh allowing his fingers to penetrate her body almost as far as the ejaculating end of it.

As the semen spurted from his cock the life left his body which sprawled limply over Zahra. Weak from loss of blood she struggled to draw a breath with his dead weight on her chest. Too weak to extricate herself from beneath him she strained and managed to take one more small breath. Her vision was becoming blurred, but she knew she had to take yet one more breath or she would die … at least the pain was lessening …

The three Ghaznavi brothers had, ,at the request of the Agriculture Minister, been granted special permission by a senior cleric to hunt the troublesome wild boar and sell the meat to religious minorities on condition that the money raised was only used to pay for the cost of the bullets. When they had stopped for a meal at Zahra’s village they heard how the young adulteress had fled to avoid punishment. At a further village on the foothills of the mountains they were shocked to be asked to find the body of an unclean woman and bury it, if necessary shooting her first in the unlikely event that she was still alive.

They hurried uphill to the location described, determined to save her if she was still alive. When they got to the foot of the cliff they were surprised to see first the naked body of a grey haired man face down in a large pool of blood. As they got closer it became apparent that he was lying on top of the body of a woman.

Lifting the man’s head they were surprised to recognise the face of the Imam of the village they had just left. His body was cool to the touch but that of the naked woman beneath was still warm. As they disentangled the two corpses even these hunters were shocked to find one of his hands deep into her mouth and throat with her teeth sunk into it. Then they had to pull his other hand from a bloody hole deep inside her belly before they could roll his carcass off hers. As their hips seperated his limp penis pulled out of her vagina with a slight ‘pop’, which caused the youngest brother do burst out laughing.

They stared with pity at the filthy naked mangled corpse of the girl, feeling rising anger as they realised the torment she must have bezen through. The ground was too hard to bury her there so they respectfully carried her to a small copse a bit further up the mountain where there was sufficient soil to bury her and pile stones over her grave to protect it from wild animals.

They pulled the Imam’s clothes back onto him then carried him about a quarter of a kilometre back towards the village before dumping his body unceremoniously at the side of a well used track, where they assumed he would eventually be found and assumed to have been killed by a wolf or a bear.

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