“They rode on. The white noon saw them through the waste like a ghost army, so pale they were with dust, like shades of figures erased upon a board. The wolves loped paler yet and grouped and skittered and lifted their lean snouts on the air... The survivors lay quietly in that cratered void and watched the whitehot stars rifling through the dark. Or slept with their alien hearts beating in the sand like pilgrims exhausted upon the face of the planet Anareta, clutched to a namelessness wheeling in the night.”
―
Cormac McCarthy,
Blood Meridian - Cormac McCarthy
