The Wistful Voyage
The cart wheels groaned against the packed earth of the road leading to the highland estate, a sound that seemed to scrape the very patience from the air. Elias Thorne sat in the back, his hands resting on his knees, fingers interlaced with a tightness that spoke of an internal storm he refused to let spill over into the world. He was not a man of action, but of observation, a scholar who had...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews