Amidst the still smoldering rubble, in valleys between the great pockmarked monoliths of a civilization that snuffed itself out in a flurry of self-annihilating fire and war; wherever killing fields lay, the scavengers nested. They cared little that the desiccated flesh and heaps of bones they feasted on were irradiated or blasted through with hardened globules of slag. The world humankind left behind was a grave, and the scavengers eagerly desecrated it with their feasting. They would rear new generations of their own fiendish offspring in the middens of man, warbling and cooing promises of a bright future to their lumpy, wrinkly-skinned chicks. They had no concept of past, and humankind was quickly forgotten as each vast heap of bones was gradually picked through and crunched up in stinking beaks until there were no more empty primate eye-sockets left to gaze emptily out over the ruin they'd bequeathed to the new order of Earth.