The Wistful Letter

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 11:21:35 -

The horse’s hooves struck the wet cobblestones of Harrowgate with a rhythmic, hollow thud, each impact sending a shiver up the reins and into my numb, gloved hands. It was the deep, bruised hour of the night when the town slept under a skin of fog, the air thick with the smell of damp rot and woodsmoke. I rode not as a traveler, but as an instrument of the Crown’s will, my breastplate cold...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews