Inside the log, the cubs sleep through the battle. They already know this lullaby.
Then he lunges.
They meet in a whirlwind of white-striped fury. Jaws clamp on jaws. Blood drips onto the moss. Neither will yield. Their cries become a duet of chaos—the sound that gave the devil its name, the sound that made early settlers believe the bush was haunted. tasmanischer teufel schrei