The Distant Affair
The rain fell on the stone walls. It fell without cease. It was the year of the Red Harvest, or so the records claimed. The records were wrong. The harvest had been black. The wheat had rotted in the stalks. It smelled of wet earth and decay. Silas stood in the courtyard. He was alone. His back was straight. His hands were at his sides. The armor was cold. It bit into his shoulders. It weighed...
0 Yorumlar 0 hisse senetleri 1 Views 0 önizleme