Nothing going on here, pay no attention....
Noon.............
The sun beats down on the desert, illuminating a lone figure trudging down the single road. Behind him, he drags a long dark object.
*huff*
*whoof*
*sheesh*
*heave*
Moving in closer, we see an aged man, the dust of the desert clinging to his black robes. His bearded face, covered in sweat, displays his strain..........and his nervousness. His eyes dart back and forth, searching out some unknown foe.
The dark bag slung over his shoulder, dragging on the ground, is now more clearly visible. Faded letters on the side are partially worn away: "...C gam..ay.........th.ead.."
He trudges on for several minutes, eyes on the ground. He almost misses the thin black line in the dirt, crossing the road evenly. As he sees it, he pauses, his face growing lighter. He lifts his head, and looks around.
By the side of the road, and old, faded sign proclaims: "Page 1."
Drawing in breath, he makes to move forward, and freezes. A cat has appeared by the side of the road. It moves forward lazily and awkwardly, hindered by it's missing leg.
The man stands locked in place, every muscle tense. The movement of his eyes is barely noticible as he tracks the feline across the dusty path. It wanders, weaving a bit due to its injury. For a moment, it almost looks his way........but then it catches a scent on the air, and is across the road, and off into the desert.
The aged man slowly relaxes, letting feeling flood back into his limbs. Furtively, he shuffles across the thin black line, carrying his burden.
Barely audible to one who would be even right next to him, he quietly whispers under his breath as he crosses the line. It is issued with a revered tone, part invocation, part thanks.
"Bump........"
