Field Husk

THE WILDS

The Greylimn Marches starved, and the fields remembered. Field husks are what the empty granaries grew instead of grain — scarecrow-shapes of stalk and rot that shamble the fallow rows, harvesting the only crop the rot left them. They were farmhands once, some say; others say only the farmhands' shapes. Either way they still walk the furrows at dusk, patient as a bad season.