The Faded Photograph
The iron bit of the sword was already buried to the hilt in the shoulder of the man who stood before him, the blood running dark and thick down the leather of his gauntlet, and Silas did not think of the pain, nor of the cold rain that lashed against the grey stone of the keep, but only of the weight of the object in his satchel, that cold, heavy, terrible thing that had been his life’s work...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme