The Distant Whispers

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 01:02:17 -

The rain did not fall. It hovered. A fine, grey mist that clung to the wool of my coat and seeped into the joints of my knees. I walked the ridge path, my boots sinking into the soft earth of the moor. The air smelled of wet stone and decaying heather. I was alone, or so I thought, until the wind shifted and carried the scent of old smoke and iron. My hand went to my side. The holster was...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews