The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 06:48:16 -

The broth was cold. It sat in the iron pot, a dark, swirling thing that smelled of old bones and regret. Silas stirred it with a wooden spoon, the sound a dull, rhythmic thud against the metal. He was a man of few words, a tracker for the Crown, but his tongue had been loose since the last moon. He spoke to the fire. He spoke to the shadows. "You see it, don't you?" he asked. The fire popped. A...

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