[vd] Рњрѕрѕр°с…рёрѕсџ, С‚сђрё Сѓс‚рµсђрісџс‚рѕрёрєр° Рё Сѓрµрјсњ Рісђрµс€рѕрёс† (... -

The Monk didn't blink. She hadn't come to the desert to find God; she had come to do the work God was too tired to finish. Should we continue this as a scene, or

The sun was a rusted coin hanging over the Sierras when the arrived. She didn’t wear a habit of silk, but of travel-stained wool, and she didn’t carry a cross—she carried a heavy, notched spade. The Monk didn't blink

The Vultures drew their steel. The Sinners held their breath. She didn’t wear a habit of silk, but

The Monk looked at the Vultures trailing her, then at the Sinners shivering in the heat. She didn’t pray. She simply drove the spade into the hard earth. The Monk looked at the Vultures trailing her,

"The ground is too dry for graves," the Monk said, her voice like grinding stones. "And I’ve no interest in burying the living. But I do have enough water for seven, and a spade for three."