'coo-OO-oo, oo, oo.' the mourning doves sang their tune, intent to be heard throughout the forest as their morning started. It went well with the sounds of the leaves ruffling thanks to the warm breeze, and the tune of the other birds, making a natural melody by mother nature.
On the dirt pathway carved through the forest, three caravans slowly traveled along, being pulled by two majestic white horses each. Inside the first and third caravans, were a few musketeers, wielding powerful FLM-18 muskets they received from the city of Hoverdam, and a few knights with wrought iron plate armor, fitted with runes.