The Distant Legend

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:27:26 -

The rain hit the mud with a sound like tearing cloth. It was cold. The kind of cold that gets into the bones and stays there. I stood by the gate. The iron was black and slick. Behind me, the forest breathed. It smelled of wet pine and old blood. "Is he coming?" I asked. My voice was rough. I had not spoken in hours. The man by the fire looked up. His face was half in shadow. "He is coming," he...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews