“Nature,” the old man said, “Is merely that which humans ain’t yet tinkering with.”
The tarantula hawk flipped over on its back and stung the tarantula til paralysis and then started dragging it, paused and bit off its eight hoary legs, sucked the blood til dry and, now finding its quarry much lighter, harried it down a small burrow into the abyss.
The detective shook his head as he surveyed the crime scene, “This guy ain’t going to change. Killing is in his nature.”
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