The Golden Visit
The road to the castle was a ribbon of red clay, slick with the rain that had not stopped for three days. Elias walked with his head down, the weight of the bread in his satchel pressing against his ribs. It was a single loaf, dense and dark, baked from the grain of the valley. It smelled of earth and yeast. It smelled of life. Elias was a prisoner. Not of chains, but of the look in the eyes of...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare