The evening was settling over Yogisho Village, the golden hue of the setting sun casting long shadows across the landscape of the village.
The sky was a blaze of a few colors, the sun sinking below the horizon in a burst of red and orange.
The trees were swaying gently in the warm evening breeze, the leaves rustling softly as they were nudged by the wind, the air was tinged with the scent of burning wood and cooking food, the smells wafting lazily in the air above the houses of the village.
The streets of the village were almost deserted, the villagers having retreated into their homes to prepare dinner and await the night.
The sound of their voices echoed down the street, from a few households with open windows, a soft hum of hushed yet cheerful conversation mingling with the occasional laughter.
Like what the guards were told earlier in the afternoon, everyone was gathered outside the village gates.
