The Pale Tale
The road into Oakhaven was not a road at all, but a track of packed mud that seemed to shift under the weight of Elias Thorne’s carriage, as if the earth itself were reluctant to admit him. He sat rigid in the driver’s seat, his hands white-knuckled on the reins, the leather-bound ledger resting on his lap like a sleeping animal. The town emerged from the mist in stages, first the dark...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews