The wind is blowing its own symphonies, cradling each leaf it brushes, pushing each meager cloud through the sky, as they pass over this desolate wasteland, consisted of sand filled helmets and ragged capes blowing across the horizon, dull swords and bones are scattered on the parched soil. Battle was here. Not just any battle. A battle that that took the lives of many decades ago, the location only known to an infrequent visitor, just a visitor, nothing more. The question arises that, why does only one person know of such an event that ended an innumerable amount of lives? One answer would only seem plausible and that is;
There was only one visitor, because I am the only one who lived through the disaster, unlike all the families and other befallen who are connected to this scenario. Soon, like them, I will be lying with their parched bones, dull swords and sand filled helmets on this very same soil.