The Golden Compass
The morning of the departure was gray, a heavy, bruised thing that pressed against the leaded glass of the high windows in the keep, and the air smelled of wet stone and the faint, sweet rot of autumn leaves that had been dragged into the courtyard by the relentless wind, and as Sir Aldous stood by the carriage, watching his wife Eleanor climb the steps with a grace that seemed to defy the...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior