its

Tough it was twilight, the recently cut fields were empty, as if no one worked today, or as if it was a holiday. It wasn't.
As if the houses were never occupied with humans, they stood vacant and lonely in the little light left, and they looked just like toy houses or china houses- they looked as if they weren't even meant to be lived in.
The wide space of cut wheat interrupted by long and very lonely trees was silent. Until a very long, lonely, human figure appeared in the distance.
It walked slowly, leisurely, enjoying the quite evening. It was all very Quite.
And then the lonely figure stopped walking and just stood there.
You'd think it has a reason to stand there. A purpose. After all, it was abnormally quite, that was obvious even from a distance, you wouldn't want to be in such a place, lonely and quite for long so maybe it just wanted to turn around, and so it stopped. To see if someone would stop him. But there was no one to stop him. You'd have known.
So maybe it was considering the silence. Measuring it in comparison to other silences the figure has confronted.
"Not a calm, sort of tense. No excitement, but no fear as well. Not an uncomfortable or charged sort of silence."

The figure was yet to stand a very long time. It was unnecessary, really, just to stand there.
It was obvious the place was abandoned.
Yet there it stood.
Looking and looking, staring, really.
May be, it was waiting for the silence to be disturbed by somebody else. Maybe the lonely figure was waiting, frozen as well, for his silence to be disturbed.
It's all very stupid, really.
A long, live, human being was standing there without movement.
Really stupid. You know, it could have moved by itself by now. All it did was simply stand there and think and look.
"Very stupid" (those were its thoughts, not mine, but I couldn't agree more).
"Just to stand here."
"Not moving."
"At all".

Twilight was rather over. And its legs were getting really tired. So the figure sat.
Laid dawn. And slept.
(Its dreams weren't very sophisticated)
A long, black figure, lying in the dark.
And morning came and so it stood again.
Today was a successful day. The figure took one step, after a Herculean effort, and an endless amount of self persuasion.
The next day was better. It took two steps.
This thing went on and on for days and endless days, and the long, very (questionably) human figure was taking its steps.
As time went and passed, the steps became very significant. So significant, that the figure has forgotten, as the days passed,
why they were taken in the first place. It was very difficult, for the lonely figure to concentrate, if the purpose of the steps was reminded.
So it took its steps.
The days weren't always productive.
Some days - of course were days of two, even three steps - but in others there was not even a single step taken.
And the long lonely figure diden't even get up in time, only to fail as twilight came.
The days dragged.
The figure was long tired of stepping. It was considering simply turning and leaving.
But something inside him told him to never leave (hint: it was the same something that made him stay for the night).

Days. And then weeks. And then years. The lonely figure never gave up. And you could be sure it wasn't human by then. Never stopped to drink or eat. And the figure lived with thoughts, its very lonely, slow thoughts, and its sleep.

"Finally"
Was its very last thought for this day. wasn't a very happy thought, frankly.
As its foot stepped on the front step of the first, very abandoned house (all those years, it was so very abandoned).
What was he searching there for, again?
Oh, right, to see if ther were people there.
Well, the man could have seen from afar that the place was abandond.
Why was he longing,
yes, longing is the word,
so much to be there?
Never mind.
Let's move on to the next village, this place is clearly abandoned.
And so he left.
Without a backwards glance.
The houses stood wide empty in the morning bright.