The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-18 05:45:04 -

The Wistful Petal

The road to the keep is long. It is wet with rain and the memory of mud. You walk it. Your boots are heavy. They are soaked through. The leather creaks with every step. It is a sound like a joint grinding. You feel the cold seep into your bones. It settles in your knees. It settles in your hips. You carry a bundle. It is wrapped in rough burlap. Inside is your husband. He is not dead. He is...

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