The old warrior - Dar Mulhamoon

Then I continued plowing the road, barefoot. I had no provision except my stick and my short worn-out thawb like a rag. The noon sun had started to scorch my face and neck. And every now and then I turned back, to make sure no one was following my trail. Across the hills and valleys, I saw tents and groups of tents. Herds, dogs, and shepherds. And the land was receding beneath my dusty, bare feet. I thought I was lost in this vast, strange land. And I feared that this path I was taking would lead me to nothing. But I had no choice but to keep going. Even stopping to catch my breath was a waste of time for me, and a cause for worry.