To Eastern Lands…
The small caravan, consisting mostly of small ox-drawn wagons and carts, and a few people walking, were heading due East over the dry veldt. The track before them was thinly worn, for not many had travelled this way before them.
The travellers were trekking towards a new land, and a new home. A place of dreams and plenty, it was to them in their minds. It was the Promised Land. A few stray dogs played with each other alongside the track, and barked. They were thin, but tough veldt animals.
The wheels of the wagons creaked, and the beasts hauling them grunted under the light strain. These people had a long road to travel. The thin, two-tracked path was strewn with small stones and pebbles. The wagons jerked and bumped as they travelled over this rough veldt road.
There were the constant buzzing of insects out in the bushes and tall grass. Sounds of bird-life filled the trees, shrubs and sky. The sun burned above. The small group of people kept their course throughout the day, as they did each day.
And the caravan moved onwards. Onwards, to Eastern lands…
