The Wistful Petal
The caravan did not so much drive into the valley of Oakhaven as dissolve into it, a slow bleed of dust and silence against the ancient, watchful pines. Silas Vane, a merchant of glass and memory, rode at the front, his hands white-knuckled on the reins of a horse that seemed to know the weight of what he carried better than he did. In the cart behind him, wrapped in layers of oiled silk and...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima