Once the sandstorm stopped, we could not see anything nor anyone. The farms survived, but not the city, not the people inside... These walls covered us with God's Will. It's been 45 years without mother... I miss her dearly... We can't leave, we are trapped in a pit of sand, and we are forced to survive, like chickens in a pen. =Ayrian, 51th of the storm IV, 1045
