Alagrath stared at the ceiling of his tent and thought about his brother. He thought about how his parents had been killed years ago by bandits. He thought about how his brother had raised him into what he is today. He thought about the bear that had killed his brother. Most of all though, he thought about how he was hungry. Really, really hungry. Since his brother died a week ago, he hadn't left camp. He's been living off of what little water they had and the jerky in his pack. The jerky ran out a few days ago and he had little to no water left. On top of all that, he's been seeing smoke on the horizon. This smoke is the smoke from bandit camps. They aren't afraid of anything. Bottom line is, if he doesn't move soon, he'll either die of thirst, or be killed by bandits.