The Wistful Voyage
The leather was cracked, a topography of dry fissures that mapped the last ten years of Elias Thorne’s life in the garrison of Oakhaven. He held the bridle in his hands, feeling the grit of dried mud beneath his fingernails, the rough grain of the hide slick with sweat from his horse’s neck, while behind him, the sound of a chest lid slamming shut echoed off the damp stone walls of the...
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