The Distant Promise

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 10:29:36 -

The mud tastes of iron. You spit it out. The blade twitches in the dirt. Your hand is slick. Not with sweat. With blood. It is your blood. It is his blood. You cannot tell anymore. The rain falls. Hard. Cold. It soaks into the wool of your tunic. It freezes against your skin. The walls of the keep are close. Too close. The stone sweats. The air is thick. It smells of rot and wet straw. You are...

0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews