He wiped his black and red checkered coat sleeve across his brow.
Then he tilted back his cap, and looked again at the horizon, taking in a breath.
He held the breath. Then let it go. He looked at the paisleys the exhaled breath created.
The promise of snow was imminent. He took the axe from the stump,
and swung it over head.
"Kill them," it said again. Norm stood with the axe over his head.