The wilderness under the scorching sun, everything was struggling.
Animals and plants lying dormant underground, waiting for the heat and drought to leave, did so; the wilderness itself, full of cracks and about to be squeezed dry of its last drop of moisture, did so; and that shadow in the center of the wilderness, swaying on the verge of collapse, not knowing where to go, did so as well.
With staggering steps and limbs weakly swinging, the head hung low covered with dust, and clothes ragged and dusty, with several tears besides.
A beggar fleeing famine? Or a criminal cast out?
Uninformed bystanders would surely make such guesses, and then instinctively think to avoid this pitiful wretch.
No one would think that Charlemagne's hope, the hero in the hearts of many, could end up so wretched.
"Ah... ah..."
