The Pale Tower
The rain did not fall so much as it suspended itself in the air, a fine, gray mist that clung to the wool of Elara’s coat and seeped into the marrow of her bones, a persistent and silent witness to the journey that had begun three days prior in the comfort of their stone cottage and had since calcified into a pilgrimage of exhaustion and dread. "You are walking too fast, Elara," Thomas said,...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen