The Wistful Asylum

a adăugat un sunet Literature

2026-08-18 08:25:56 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a grey, suspended mist that clung to the heather and the ancient stones of the moor. I had walked for three days, my boots heavy with the mud of a season that would not end. I was a seeker, a man of questions dressed in the rough wool of a pilgrim, though I carried no holy water, only a leather satchel containing a single, heavy iron key and a map...

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