The wind blew over the rocks, over the sand and the small, crouching bushes which were desperately clinging to the ground. There was always wind, it seemed, nowadays. Terraforming. It will pass after the first few decades, they say.
The body lay in a small valley. A river bed, eons ago. She was clad in her native red, a red that was now rapidly retreating, being replaced by more yellowish tones.
They got her in the end. After all this years they got her, but she didn’t mind. Because what was there left to fight for? The wind blew over her fragile looking body, but she didn’t mind. She was gone.