"Vandoro" had traveled far stretches of the plains without seeing any sign of a village for days on end. The summer sunlight would have been oppressive to others, but to them it gave a sort of energy that was particular. However, such energy was used to keep pushing their legs to the nearest lake, or river in which they could refill their canteen. After coming across a wide pastoral plain, they found a hunting tent on a high hill with a man sharpening his bow and letting his pelts tan. "Vandoro" traveled up the hill to beg for water,
"Please sir, I am of thirst." said "Vandoro" with a parched tongue.
To which the man replied with disrespect,
"Is your God not forgiving to those, who deserve so much lament for traveling such green walks as to where they could not find water? Are your people not like the camel that travel across the scorched dunes, and understand where to find the nearest bed of fresh water?"
To be insulted in such a way, "Vandoro" could not do nothing while they die of thirst, when a full cup of water was next to this man. He is a hunter, and would kill me in the slightest sign of thievery. So, "Vandoro" made the quick call and before the man could flinch, a beam of sunlight from the palm of Vandoro's hand struck him in the heart. The hunter tumbled over onto his tent, collapsing it, but revealing a flowing river behind the hill...
![](http://cdn.lordofthecraft.net/monthly_2022_08/1870470717_Screenshot2022-08-27091801.png.602f6763cd7ad8d7880f2295043b379c.png)
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