She came by a road that was no longer there, descending from a mountain pass that had merged with the extinguished sky. On the soles of her boots was a residue of moisture, like the spray from a stream that had once flowed near the village. Now, there was no water — only parched stones and ribbons of dust. Yet, with every step she took upon the ash-gray snow, droplets fell. They were not water. They were droplets of sound
