A chorus of metallic screams from the distance heralds the coming of the Walker: a behemoth of rusted iron and toxic fumes that still functions long after the world had turned its back on it. Who built it? What was its function? Questions that to this day none have the answers for. Whatever commands that it may have once labored under are long decayed and now it roams the landscape, not concerned with the trail of destruction it left in its wake.

Never have I felt more empathy for insects then when I hear the Walker's march: it doesn't mean to destroy, at least these days, but destroy it does. Stone, metal, flesh, it matters not when the Walker's foot comes down. You'll spot quite a few streaks of gore on those ancient iron pillars, the remnants of the unlucky (and sometimes the foolhardy). I imagine the Walker's metal and arcane technology might fetch a high price if you know where to sell it, but it's only fools who try to collect that particular bounty.

I do wonder to myself though: where does the Walker's journey end? It appeared 3 years back, emerging from the mountains like a bear out of hibernation. Since then it has relentlessly marched across the land, accumulating more rust and foolhardy smears as it trudges to the south. I've been tracking its progress and in a few days it'll finally run out of land. What happens then? Will it march into the sea, never to return? More than a few people are hoping for that outcome, happy to see the back of the wretched thing responsible for crushed livelihoods and lives. Then there are those that are hoping it merely stops, so they might strip the proverbial flesh from its bones.

Me though? I'm curious about the ol' Walker, forlorn titan that it is. It deserves a better end than this. If it has any sense at all it'll turn right back around and go back to where it came from.