Gale-force winds lash grit across the cracked alkaline flats, keening like a wail. This is a wasteland forgotten by time, beneath a perpetually leaden sky. In the distance, jagged mountains resemble the rotting spines of giant beasts. At the edge of a fissure, amid a heap of rubble, a withered yellow weed three inches tall is repeatedly forced headfirst into the ground by the howling wind.
“108,000th time...” The blades of grass struggle to pass the thought through a gap in the gusts. “Will this wind... ever let up?”
