The Distant Legend
The rain in the Blackwood Valley did not wash things clean; it only made the mud slicker and the rot smell sweeter. Sergeant Elias Thorne pulled his cloak tighter against the chill, his boots sinking into the mire with a sound like a dying breath. He had walked for three days since the border, driven by a single, gnawing purpose that had nothing to do with the law and everything to do with his...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews