I live in a world where death chases life. Death, as we call it, is not the slow decomposition of our cells that so commonly afflicts us. No, Death is a living, breathing creature. Ever so slowly, it traverses the world in search of its meal. We are but krill in juxtaposition. History tells us that we can move far beyond its reach, sometimes too far. The generations slowly forget, and the beast becomes legend, a tale to scare the old ones to bed. Yet the inevitable happens, and the stench of its breath creeps over the land. Run away?