Where do we record the passing of wildlife? Who mourns the silent deaths of the small?

Where there is no respect for life, there you will find evil.

By that which you kill are you bound.

To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn't stop until the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to take one's place in the world. To say 'I am here.' To say 'I am.

All my books reflect travel adventures of some kind, and all have a soul: a spiritual or mystical underpinning.

Life is a journey through a foreign land.

Life isn't as magical here, and you're not the only one who feels like you don't belong, or that it's better somewhere else. But there ARE things worth living for. And the best part is you never know what's going to happen next.