The dwarf's destiny.

Towards the plains of Kattiput.

"What kinda life is this?"

Alanor panted, taking a break. He could see the plains of his land few steps ahead of him. He was on an unnamed spot between the woods behind and plains ahead.

He resumed walking, his clothes dusty and dirty. His hair unkempt, face rough, lips cracked, shoes worn from the tiring journey. His heart was faint, but dropping dead or refusing to walk would do him nothing close to good.

"Why are there no wandering warriors on patrol?"

He remonstrated, advancing towards the plains. A realization dawned on him,

"Even if many died in the war, but I left few back at home. Aren't they supposed to be worried about me?"

He was now walking through the plains.

"And there is no horse. What fate is this. Why do I fall into wrong hands over and over again."

The view up ahead of him was blurry because of the hotness of the sun. He could hardly take a long s
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