Day 1,227

The distance from town to the graveyard always seemed so much shorter when he was a just a boy. Then again, he'd spend most of the journey asleep and not on his ragged feet under a sun that was barely slipping past noon. He wasn't sure what burned more - the sun or the sand. Either way he had one hell of a long walk to make up his mind.

See with the crows suddenly all gone and the dogs driven mad, leaving town felt like the safest option and as everyone knows - wild animals don't go places where the dead have no meat. The sand would shift his scent to the winds that shifted the dunes each and every night so the chances of anything or anyone tracking him were slim.

If only other folks had understood the same as him and known that the town wasn't a safe place any more. If he still had shoes he'd've bet them on the fact that groups made people go dumb, made them clump together like prey and wait for death to arrive on the frothing, snarling mouths of the dogs whose legs they'd broken so they could be used to ward off whatever was coming for them.

He'd rather take his chances among the dustdevils and bones than risk getting caught up in the middle of a human stampede once they realise where safety ain't. Him and his shovel would do just fine breaking into the old mayor's mausoleum and together they'd wait for the crows to come back.