That night.
Salt Caravan, North Mountain Route, 40 miles North of Axe Central City.
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'The Caravan is near,' A hunger rose in him. 'They always arrive at night.'
'Why?' His thoughts questioned him. But his thoughts should not question his every decision. He was the bearer and master of the body. His thoughts should follow. But his thoughts repelled against his will. He fought against his thoughts almost every waking moment.
'Why attacking salt?' He questioned again. He could not grasp the reason but it was unnecessary, these questions.
'I should be sleeping now,' He forced the essence of his mind, almost succumbing to the comforting calls of his thoughts. He wanted to sleep but something had compelled him to do things sometimes he did not like.
Sleeping was the only way to shut everything down; the noise, the decisions, the command.
