Another crumpled cigarette is thrown to the side, slowly burning in the sand before going out as the sound of a lighter flicking on and the slow, drawn out inhale of a breath fills the quiet night of the endless desert. By now Wolfwood had smoked about three cigarettes in total, now on his forth as he leans his head against the shared car of the group as everyone else sleeps soundly.

Sleep. It's something that the undertaker wishes he was doing, but dark memories stop him from doing so.