Re: Stories thread
Summer, 363 AD, somewhere in the steppe..
Duva continued his ride to west. He was determined to get to the Western Roman lands before the rest of the tribe gets there. Perhaps it's possible for him to arrange some kind of deal with them then. If not then he knew very well what might happen. Death and destruction...
A small river crossed his path and he stopped. Once he got off from his horse he checked the horizon. From the day he left from the camp he had a feeling that someone was following him. Simple things gave it away. Things that others would've probably never noticed. However, Duva was not your normal diplomat with a scroll of parchment in his hand. He grew up in a hostile world where you had to fight if you wanted to survive. Because of this he was able to notice things that others couldn't. However, he was not concerned or scared. He knew that if someone would've wanted to attack him they would've already done it. There were plenty of opportunities for that during his journey.
Looking back towards the river he saw couple of small trees and he decided to rest a little. Even he needs to sleep and eat sometimes..
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