A graveyard sprawls out in disrepair. Headstones are broken, cracked, or tilted. Wind has erased the names carved here. Bits of wooden fence poke out of tall grass, like the ribs of a long dead bull.
A trench has been dug nearby. As wide as a stream and as long as the cemetary, it buzzes with a cloud of flies and gnats. Heavily decayed bodies fill the trench. Though no effort has been made to cover them, they are so rotten and mashed together that you cannot tell their origin. Those with exceptional vision will find them to be the bodies of horses.