The Khyber Pass Heat. Heat that isn't just from the sky; the type of heat that radiates off the ground, the rocks and the surrounding hills, beating down in constant unrelenting pulses, wearying even the most experienced traveller. This is the Kyber pass in the year 1839, and is untouched by most of the world; the few outsiders who have the misfortune to cross this path are regretting every step they take, damning their folly for ever ending up here. In Afghanistan, this route is filled with treachery, deceit and dirt, and no one can trust anybody. If one were to overlook the Kyber pass in 1839, one would immediately feel an air of tension, as on this day you see merchants travel this route, as this was ironically their only #lifeline to India and civilisation. The convoy has many escorts, who are constantly watching the jagged mountains, hand on musket. You wouldn't blame them if you knew just how treacherous this passage is, for up in the overlooking mountains and hills, evil chieftains look down on the merchants like vultures picking their prey. These greedy chieftains would live lawlessly in their towns in the hills, living like kings due to the bribes from Britain to not attack their travellers. They would sit on their thrones, licking their lips as those unfortunate fellows would cross, wondering how best to trap them. It would be because of chieftains such as these that in mere three years later, 16,500 people would be killed or captured in the infamous Kabul retreat, with only a handful of survivors who would escape to tell the story. After that massacre, little a merchant would ever been seen travelling the Khyber pass again.