The Pale Bridge
The market square of Oakhaven was not a place for shadows, yet Elias Thorne carried one with him like a heavy stone in his chest. He was a cobbler by trade, a man whose hands were mapped with the topography of leather and thread, but in this city, his hands were only half the story. The other half was the bird. It lived in the hollow of his collarbone, a small, grey sparrow with feathers that...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 4 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση