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There were times in life when one felt shallow and alone. A total failure at all things. Men usually weren’t the type to easily fall prey to depression, but the constant shadowing of grey was preventing his heart from rising. He longed for the warmth of the sun, to feel its soft rays blazing a trail of foamy sweat along his back when training commenced. Instead of dry desert heat, the Throat got bitter freezing temperatures and frequent sleet storms. Pitless gold stared out at the expansion of land with a vacant look of disapproval, the shade of a frostbitten palm cast sharp shadows across his body, it’s bending limbs offered protection against a fresh onslaught of wind and frozen rain. It was sleeting again, a cold shin of solid ice fell from an unforgiving dark sky. Their land lacked its familiar luster; it seemed nearly dead and empty of all life. Save for those that took refuge in the Oasis. The elements were against them, in the summer they burnt up, and in winter everything froze. He didn’t leave the throat on days like this, choosing to stay near Cera and forage for food. |
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