Saddaj walked across the cold, open valley. His footfalls echoed against the mountains standing on either side, witnesses to the centuries of ancient times, and now to him. This place was not like his home - it brought him considerable discomfort. He was used to the solitude, but here it lacked the intense heat and incredible sunlight he had lived most of waking life in. A day here was like a night in the desert, and it was disoconcerting. His lightly coloured clothes might, paradoxically, blend in with the snow at the peaks around him, but down here he was easily visible. Another thing he found strange was the abundance of life. There was so much shrubbery, as well as some other strange plants, one variety that grew seemingly everywhere, hardly three inches tall, and another which grew to the height of several men, with what looked like the plants he was used to hanging from it. He'd heard caravaneers travelling between his home and foreign lands describe things such as these. Grass, he thought the small ones were, called, and the larger ones... trees? Certainly he had never seen any kind of plant, familiar or alien, grow in such incredible abundance. Apparently though, this was normal throughout most of the world, and it was he who come from the strange lands. Saddaj turned his head suddenly. Had he just heard something? Maybe not. Still, his hand went to the spear-stave strapped to his back, and he turned around slowly. If the Ashen Steppes had taught him about anything, it was caution.