The Wistful Ashes
The rain had been falling for three days, a cold, relentless sheet that turned the cobblestones of the old quarter into slick, dark mirrors, reflecting the flickering gas lamps and the huddled figures of the few travelers who dared to venture out into the gloom, and I had been walking since dawn, my boots heavy with mud, my cloak soaked through to the bone, carrying with me the weight of a...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare