The wrinkles on her face seemed to deepen, and her gaze once again became indistinguishable from the other gray-skinned people marching forward.
"Forget it," she mumbled, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. "What's it to me... Returning is the only way... Dumasong is waiting..."
Muttering to herself, she staggered forward and merged back into the gray torrent, soon swallowed by the wave of other gray-skinned people surging from behind, becoming completely indistinguishable.
Murphy silently watched her figure disappear into the stream of people.
He didn't linger. He turned and continued walking toward the rear of the column, into the ever-deepening darkness.
...
A desolate, rocky plain.
There was a small slope.
Below the slope was a massive cave entrance, from which a rhythmic "CLANG! CLANG!" and a gust of hot, sulfur-scented wind faintly emanated.
Seven or eight people were gathered outside the cave mouth.
