Dirt

I have no doubt that we're fully in the Yellow Zone. I'm suffering from bad stomach cramps; a couple of the others look pained, but no one talks about it. We're passing through a bare region of red-brown earth. There's no plant life, apart from the occasional patch of white fungi, and even that seems to be struggling. I haven't heard or seen any trace of an animal.

The only features of any interest are the tall piles of dirt dotting the plain. We haven't been near one, but I'd guess they're around six feet tall by three feet wide. I have no idea what they are, how they were formed, or how they stand up. The soil here is dry and grainy, almost like sand. I'd ask one of the others, but none of us are speaking.

We didn't speak all day; no one even made eye contact with me. I guess we're all trying to cope with the effects of the mal this far into The Sick Land.

No change in the stars again. I'm beginning to feel like I might be wasting my time; for now, I'll keep doing a drawing a night and stuffing it into my bag. If the stars do change, at least I'll have plenty of copies.