The church was nearly gone now, a skeleton of arches amid a flame-scarred shell of stone walls. Great holes gaped where long-fallen blocks gathered dust on the ground below. All around, the city lay in waste and ruin, buildings poking up like jagged and uneven rocks from a sea of debris. No one came anymore. No one moved. The birds that once fluttered in such profusion were gone. Even the other gargoyles were gone, fallen and smashed. Only the wind, hot and acrid, still touched me on my increasingly precarious perch.
Perhaps today, I will move.