The Golden Circuit
The iron taste of blood is the first thing you notice, sharper than the cold, sharper than the fear that is currently trying to strangle your lungs. You are on your knees in the mud of the courtyard, the wet earth seeping through the torn fabric of your doublet, soaking into the wool until it feels less like clothing and more like a second, heavier skin. Above you, the shadow of the...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen