White Tree

The sea of dust and bones, which had not even been graced with a name by the livings, was somewhat similar to a desert, all things considered, only that all points of interest were bones, off all sizes and shapes, but bones, all of them were a pristine white, as though impossible to sully.

Loimos could sense that the skeletons that could see on the surface were only the tip of the iceberg, many more were buried much further below ground, and sometimes, list amidst the dust, one might find objects that were not bones, but the clothes, weapons and other personal belongings of livings who had once walked the very same spots as the two of them were currently going through.

The restless that had killed them must have had no use in whatever they were carrying and simply left these items where they had fallen, free to be slowly eroded and consumed by the elements, of which, there wasn't much, actually.