Through the dirty cloth draped over my head, covering half my face, I could make out their worn-out clothes and the daggers strapped to their waists.
They were standing there with their arms crossed, trying way too hard to look intimidating.
"This road was opened by me," one declared.
"This tree was planted by me," the other chimed in.
"If you want to pass here, leave your money behind."
Walking from the forest to the city, then from the market district to the port, and now deep into the West Borough without a single rest, the fatigue finally caught up to me. My whole body was burning out.
On top of that, the sun blazed overhead like it had a personal grudge against me.
I was sweating buckets, and with every step, my body grew stickier and heavier. Not to mention, this body wasn't in great shape to begin with.
Honestly, it was a miracle I'd made it this far at all.
