The Pale Banner
The rain did not fall so much as it pressed against the high, leaded windows of the citadel, a relentless, grey curtain that erased the world beyond the stone and left us suspended in a twilight of damp wool and rusted iron, a state of being where the distinction between the living and the dead had grown so thin that one could only tell them apart by the heat of their breath, which was a heat...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare