“I think it is Hakim,” one man says.

“He is,” confirms Zyrn.

“What happened?” another man asks.

“I don’t know but we better find the others quick,” he says. Mounting he turns to the others and says, “We’ll come back and get him on our return.” With the rest following he continues toward the battlefield.

When they reach the beginning of the gray area he pauses. The face of the dead man they left behind comes to mind. The fact that his face was gray gives him pause in entering the gray sand.

“There’s another!” cries out one of the men.

Further into the area of gray sand lies another of the missing young men. As one of the men makes to enter the grayness, Zyrn yells, “Stop!”

“But he may need our help, Zyrn,” the man says.

Dismounting, Zyrn moves to the edge of the gray sand. Bending over, he hesitantly reaches down and touches it. The feel of it is the same as it was when they were here before. Turning to the man he stopped, he nods.

Kicking his horse in the sides, the man races over to the body lying in the sand. By the time Zyrn has remounted the man has stopped and is kneeling by the body. When Zyrn and the others approach, the man glances back to him and says, “It’s Ibala.”

His features mimic that of the other dead man; gray skin that looks like melted wax and pupils that have turned gray. “Do you think anyone is left alive?” one man asks.

Gazing out over the grey desert Zyrn shakes his head and replies, “I doubt it.” Further toward the sight of the battle, he sees the wagons of the other scavengers. They have stopped before reaching the area where the dead soldiers lay.

“They stopped,” he comments.