Epilogue
A group of men and women moved around the excavation site on Devil’s Den, working against time to recover what they could before the sea devoured yet more.
They sifted sand for small artifacts, readied textile fragments for preservation, and gently carried bones from their makeshift grave to place in containers for forensic analysis back at the lab.
The restless waves had taken much, but what remained was enough to tell the tale of what had taken place here.
With luck, genetic genealogy might even give some of the dead their names back one day.
Gulls circled the site, associating the presence of humans with food.
Sandpipers chased the waves back and forth, probing the sand for the tiny things that lived beneath.
A woodpecker inspected one of the remaining dead trees; most of the ghost forest had fallen in the storm.
The wind carried the scent of salt and seaweed, gently ruffling the marsh grass with its trailing hand.
On the beach, away from the sight of human eyes, a series of small footprints appeared in the sand. They walked along the edge of the dunes, then curved down onto the beach, where the incoming tide washed them away.