HT16. With ants crawling over her body, the Apache woman uttered the name of the one who buried her alive
The desert at midday looked like an endless sheet of hammered copper. Heat shimmered above the sand, bending the horizon into wavering lines. Wind dragged thin veils of dust across the ground—soft at first, then sharp enough to sting. Everything about this landscape felt still and ancient, as if it were more accustomed to swallowing…