The Desert Places by Amber Sparks and Robert Kloss

And now you wandered from mounded city to mounded city, the low whine of wind, the sifting and swirling, and no more movement. You pulled from the heaps the sooty limbs of dead men, the fleshy heads of dead men, and you cracked these open, and you supped on the meat and marrow within. How bitter the taste of the cold and long ago dead, how sorrowful the chewing of one murdered by another.