Winter steps

Sometimes at dusk the clouds look like my mountains, far threes like hills hidden by the haze. I miss the feeling of the wood in winter, before the snow, the silence of the animals, just my breath and my steps resounding in the frozen soil.

I move my sight to the city, few buildings tha I can recognize in the mist, gods' temple for the human pride. Gods' places in a city of godless men. Now the temples of the Order are not in the cities anymore, just outside them. Not in the centre, never far away. Just for the people who belong.

From here I can see the city, exactly as from the clearings I was used to watch the village and the valley. I just miss my steps on frozen dry grass.