The Distant Threshold
The iron gate screams. It is a sound like tearing meat. You stand in the mud. The mud is black. It sucks at your boots. You hold the manuscript. Your hands shake. The rain falls. It is cold. It is sharp. It bites through your wool coat. You are a scholar. You are old. Your back aches. But you are not alone. There are men. They are in armor. The armor is dented. The armor is bloodied. They are...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 4 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen