An old woman in a long cloak; she leans on a staff.

Across the deserted landscape, she approaches twin town gates, mountains her backdrop.

Her eyes are hidden within a soft, fluted hood, but they glare out.

No one can see, but she can.

She tapped into a vein of anger, one that had been bled many times over the past months.

She closed her eyes within the hood, still walking, meditated for a few moments on that hard knot.

What had been in her mind dissipated as vapour over that dust.