The Golden Compass
The old woman did not look up when Margaret entered the chamber, her eyes fixed instead on the intricate, gnarled knot of her own left hand, a limb that seemed to have grown less like flesh and more like the twisted roots of a winter elm. Margaret, the Lady of the House, stood in the doorway of the high tower, where the wind whistled through the stone slits with a voice that sounded...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 4 Views 0 önizleme