The Distant Clue
Mara woke with the taste of rust on her tongue. The dream was gone, but the weight of it remained. She lay in the straw of the guest house, the air thick with the smell of wet wool and old wood. Outside, the rain hammered against the slate roof of the manor. She was a woman of few words, a guard for Lord Ashworth, and yet her mind was a battlefield she could not leave. In the dream, the manor...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen