Snowfall had made the mesa cold. Winter hung on everything, ready to take hold of the land and claim it. The snows had fallen in great white flakes, peppering the ground until they had banded together to form something stronger. It would not be long before they would rise, and the world would turn white.
Bayek had returned from a patrol on the borders. He felt the bite of the cold on his skin and grimaced. The warmth of the sand was forgotten in Akashingo. The man moved to find the shrine he had made for Amun. The place of worship was a small one, but Bayek could be found there often. It was the best place to clear his mind and remind himself to focus.
The Medjay hurried, unaware if he might draw the attention of the Akashingo natives.
Bayek had returned from a patrol on the borders. He felt the bite of the cold on his skin and grimaced. The warmth of the sand was forgotten in Akashingo. The man moved to find the shrine he had made for Amun. The place of worship was a small one, but Bayek could be found there often. It was the best place to clear his mind and remind himself to focus.
The Medjay hurried, unaware if he might draw the attention of the Akashingo natives.
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Aten - by Bayek - November 15, 2022, 05:37 PM