The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-20 07:08:09 -

The Wistful Petal

The mud in the ditch was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking thing, a cold tongue that licked at the hem of my tunic and tried to drag me down into the black earth. I felt it in the marrow of my left knee, a dull, throbbing ache that had become so constant it had ceased to be pain and had become a second heartbeat, a rhythmic pulsing that matched the heavy, sodden beat of my own survival....

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