The Distant Joke

σε πρόσθεσε στο Literature

2026-08-19 17:16:31 -

The Distant Joke

The frost bit into the iron of your blade. It was a cold that did not merely sit on the skin but burrowed, seeking the marrow, seeking the blood. You stood at the edge of the Blackwood, where the pines grew so thick they strangled the moonlight. The town of Oakhaven lay below you, a patchwork of stone and thatch, glowing with the weak, amber pulse of hearth fires. You were not meant to be here....

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