Except for the piercing sound of the wind whispering its endless litany of wordless poems. Lonely walls standing guard beside the dusty path. Derelict ruins of times long gone and yet powerful enough in their seemingly never aging perseverance. Making the impression of having always been there and never leaving until the end of times.
The sky hung low over the landscape and if it weren't for the distant croaking of an angry crow one would think the end of times for every living creature had already happened.
In the distance two lonely figures staggered over uneven ground, their feet stumbling over dead roots of withering, leafless trees. Their scarfs were wrapped around their heads, held in places by fingers numbed by the icy wind.
Stones were crunching under their feet as they passed the scarred remains of former civilisation, stopping merely for a second to catch their breath.
"Next time," rasped the smaller figure and crouched a little lower to offer as little surface as possible against the strong breeze. "I'll decide where to go on our holiday, got it?"
Also, what the hell with wrong with this editor? It keeps swallowing my vowels and won't allow copy and paste. Stupid thing!