The shadow of what was once a man was crawling through the desert, running from death.
The desert was punishing the hurt body of him, whom was once a great warrior. During the day, the sun boiled his skin and the night brought the cold that took his energy quickly away. Besides that, the poison on his blood slowly was taking his movements away. He wasn’t thinking about the hunger or the thirst anymore. The only thought in his mind was life. He thought about everything he needed to do before passing away and with that thought, grasped with force the last thread of life left to him.
During the first day on the gigantic desert, he left behind his armor and some of his clothes because of the scorching sun. If regret could kill, he would have died on the first hour before the sundown, because of the penetrating cold.
In the third night, however, his willpower was not sufficient and he succumbed to the desert. While his vision was fading, he looked at the vigilant moon, and thought of the end. It was worse than he ever imagined.
