Bad Luck

[drake]

Drake drew a deep breath, feeling the fresh meal in his bag against his back as he trekked away from the merchant.

Up until this point, his journey was solitary, and a lonesome one at that; however, the gentle breeze upon his face, and the liveliness of the crisp falling chill prepared a basin for the coming snowfall. Rocky, sandy silt from the coastlines shimmered in the descending evening light as the viewpoint toed his way through the rocky uneven terrain. Rolling hills from Salvar's elevating shelf slowly grew about the path as the principality entered a slightly plateaued basin for as far as the eye could see. The gentle mounds behind him dwarfed in comparison to the mountains visible far to his south. He followed the path through the dry tundra as the clouds overhead began to darken the night.

After trekking for several days with little rest, Drake found himself cold and exhausted. A short rest in the nearby wood rejuvenated him enough to find a traveling merchant from whom he purchased a dish of cold-smoked fish, seasoned with local herbs.

Farther along the road, he noticed a worn down, and abandoned temple. Just outside the main gates, a cemetery contained hundreds of headstones, marking the land's somber history.

Nothing to recount or regale, the principality bowed his head in respect of the resting, reverently scanning several names of those who had fallen in the past local wars.

The air was still and even his breath flowed silently as the viewpoint continued down the path.