Day one.

Well. Well. Well.

The caravan arranged its procession of camels, as the men readied themselves for one more trip. Supplies were heaped onto the backs of the camels as the men sat in the nearby shade, drawing patterns in the sand, telling of could be attacks, and would be ambushes, each men forming a picture in their mind as they prepared themselves for the long journey ahead.

The king sat alone in his camel-top throne, thinking not of survival, for those are for the minds of the warriors, and others are hired in this instance to do that for him. He thought not of the path ahead, for his wise minister has already had that mapped out a thousand times, and shown him a thousand times, that even the minister, he thought to himself, must have been sick of it. His thoughts were instead on things unrelated, of perhaps little importance. Like how he likes lamb, he would think, perhaps its taste, or perhaps its texture. Little did he know that lamb in fact appealed to a primal instinct of him, that forgotten history as part of a hunting tribe. That every time he chewed on that meat brought him a little piece of the fire his ancestors sat around beneath the stars, chewing raucously as each of them tasted the glory of the hunt, the esctacy of the kill.

And perhaps of what will happen to the little boy he saw as the procession passed by the town for perhaps the last time in a long while. Will he grow in my absence? Or does he know me at all? Would i have made a difference if i need not leave, will it make a difference now that i do.

And of the tree, will it bear fruit while i am absent, or will it wilt and die, or be cut off? you can never know with the number of lumberjacks around nowadays.

And then he shifts his thought forward, he thought. How would the new place be, will there be sunshine, day after day? or will deer and the antelopes play?

"Its time to go, my master", The caravan guide said.

And perhaps it is, thought the young king. He turned back once more, on the city of glass that was once his. The streets were normal. Man, women and child are carrying on as though nothing ever happened. And maybe nothing did.

He turned around and signalled to move.

So begins the first day of the exile.

Its been long since i added any thing to my story that was due last year. But yeah. hopefully one day when i finally write that story, this excerpt finds its way into it too.