Beautiful steeds gallop towards the sunset in the howling wind. Arcane burial mounds, scattered all over the landscape, marked the destiny, the life, the death and the passage of ancient knights errant. Here and there the herd and the Yurta, the big felt and wooden tents, mark the passing of nomad people that are travelling over those lands. In this short-length film the mythical images seem to intermingle with the real ones, in an evocative effect intensified by the absence of words and highlighted by the sounds, the colours and the shapes of the steppe. The centuries-old routes of Cimmerians, Shites, Sarmatians, Huns, Avaris and Goths come into sight in the dim daylight. No monument, no temple, only simple and mysterious tombs, whose secret is guarded in their buried treasures. The tombs are enshrouded in their legend and we follow their tracks through the winding mountains and the dusty plains of a Kazaki summer. We set out on a journey that seems endless, although at times interrupted by large and unusual waterways. We are escorted by the lined faces of those knights and plunged into the steppe twilight. An environment and lifestyle on the decline.