The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 16:21:14 -

The Distant Wound

The hall smelled of roasted lamb and wet wool. It was a thick, cloying scent that stuck to the back of my throat. I sat at the low table, legs tucked beneath me. The fire crackled. Sparks danced into the dark rafters. Brother Thomas stood at the head of the table. He wore the grey habit of the Order. It was clean. It was new. My tunic was patched. The wool was itchy. It scratched my neck. I did...

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