The Faded River

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 16:45:07 -

The Faded River

The carriage wheels groaned against the packed mud of the approach, a sound like dry wood snapping in the cold wind. Inside, the air smelled of damp wool and the metallic tang of fear. Wren sat in the corner, his hands folded tightly in his lap, fingers interlaced so tightly the knuckles turned white. He was not a man of the court, nor a knight, nor even a squire. He was a weaver’s son from the...

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