At noon in November, the fox hunts the frozen grass. 力 Not madness, not rabies just hunger racing against the clock. Each leap, each catch, a heartbeat closer to winters edge. Survival is the only instinct left.

At noon in November,
the fox hunts the frozen grass. 力
Not madness, not rabies
just hunger racing against the clock.

Each leap, each catch,
a heartbeat closer to winters edge.
Survival is the only instinct left.

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