Pack
Eventually he, too, left, and Marc was alone with only regret for company.
The sun completed its journey across the sky and sank into the horizon, painting the asphalt in a brilliant wave of colors before giving way to twilight. Despite the insistent grumble in his belly, Marc kept his sentinel post.
Wind stirred the heavy ash pile on the ground, swirling it and yet not managing to disperse it. Much like metal filings when attracted to a magnet, the particles spun and danced but never strayed too far from their origin. Even the ashes from the decapitated head in the end managed to make their way back to the rest. Uncanny.