The Orchard Keeper

They are gone now. Fled, banished in death or exile, lost, undone. Over the land sun and wind still move to burn and sway the trees, the grasses. No avatar, no scion, no vestige of that people remains. On the lips of the strange race that now dwells there their names are myth, legend, dust.

Good McCarthy, but certainly not as strong as other McCarthy novels, and I found myself getting a little bored in places.