There was no wind to stir the mist clinging to the piles of rubble and clinker that made up the landscape.

The ever-present mist, leached more colour out of the already near monochromatic scene, it sofended the edges of the distant wrecked shells of buildings in vague dark outlines against the grey sky.

The sun had seemed to give up on this place, it’s place in the sky marked by a small slightly brighter spot, that gave bit little to warm the damp, foul air.

The mist was probably toxic, it smelled like it should be, faint sulphurous notes and vague chemical odours came and went from our noses. Like everything here the smell seemed like it couldn’t be bothered, the nasell equivalent of the grey all around us.

There was no colour, not even blacks or whites, just unending shades of grey.

The grey seemed to take the life from everything, even the sounds of our slow movement across the landscape was muted and softened by this place.

None of this really mattered, the only thing of importance was just visible in the distance…