Dozens of mounds erected to the dead: all slightly pointed, all silent under the low thick sky. The air still within this cul-de-sac of stone; the drab grass drifting only seldom in a sluggish breeze.No howling voices today.Yet still Mugg-Medias thought he felt the stifling, staring presence of the dead.--Written by Alexander Saxton.Support The Wrong Station by subscribing at www.patreon.com/thewrongstation.The Wrong Station contains explicit content and mature themes. Episode-specific warnings can be found at www.wrongstation.com/c-w. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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