WIP>>>> *The three said nothing as they galloped towards their destination...as though they were racing the sunset. It had been a hard journey....out of twenty and seven...only these three survived. Damasat, the rider flanked on either side carried the precious relic sought at the beginning of their quest. Rardin, the rider to the left of Damasat, kept a keen eye to the horizon and from time to time...looked back over his shoulder as though he were recalling what they left behind. Faharim, the eldest and most experienced of the three...his wound...beginning to bleed again...holds his free hand to pressure the puncture ...the other two...unaware he had even been wounded.*