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Ronso Valley was a beautiful sight from the surrounding mountains tops: a rich and vibrant span of greenery and flourishing gardens. The sun had just come out and he can spot the children leaving their homes to gather foods for the morning meals. Every time Balthazar wandered out from the valley in search of nowhere and nothing he remembered exactly why these people were his and this land was his and he was home. Although they might not know it.
Community throbbed over the wise span of green. Every single last piece of this valley was made by hand. The homes, the fields, the community that throbbed throughout. It was in their blood and such a thing placed a warm feeling in his heart and put a smile on his lips.
He had been out for quite some time and traveled through the most eastern side of Alder and up to the north before wandering back. Two years, it had been. Two full years. He was weathered and worn - his old rag of clothing clung to his body - but his feet easily made their way down the mountain side to embrace his home.
Community throbbed over the wise span of green. Every single last piece of this valley was made by hand. The homes, the fields, the community that throbbed throughout. It was in their blood and such a thing placed a warm feeling in his heart and put a smile on his lips.
He had been out for quite some time and traveled through the most eastern side of Alder and up to the north before wandering back. Two years, it had been. Two full years. He was weathered and worn - his old rag of clothing clung to his body - but his feet easily made their way down the mountain side to embrace his home.
