The Wistful Mountain
The road was not a road. It was a scar in the earth. Elias walked it. His boots were worn thin. The leather peeled away in strips. He did not look down. To look down was to admit the distance. He kept his eyes on the treeline. The trees were black. They stood like sentinels. They had no leaves. It was autumn. Or winter. The air did not care. He carried a sack. It was heavy. It was not full of...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen