The Distant Cartograph

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2026-08-18 05:13:57 -

The frost bit the skin of the valley. It bit deep. It bit hard. Caleb stood in the clearing. He was alone. The air was thin. The air was cold. It scraped his lungs. He held the staff. It was wood. It was old. It was his. He was the Warden. He wore the gray. The gray was heavy. The gray was wet. It clung to him. It weighed him down. He looked at the tree. It was a yew. It was black. It was...

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