The afternoon light reflected shyly on the snowy fields, it was cold to be in the final stretch of winter, Omega had never liked the cold, one of the things he hated the most, even above the rest of the races. of this damned world called Athair, above the hatred he had for humanity itself, or even above the hatred he had always had for himself, was the cold... he couldn't stand it, it was something that stuck inside him. and he brought out the worst that was in him, and that was saying a lot.
With a wind shovel the head of the last goblin rolled to the ground, it was a habitual cleaning, not passionate, something he had to do when he came across one of the dwellings and signs that the other two envoys of the company had left in the map to recognize a safe haven.
