The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 09:09:37 -

The blood from the gash above Silas’s left eye had begun to crust into a dark, jagged map on his forehead, a stark contrast to the pale, unwashed face beneath. He stood amidst the splintered ribs of his ox-cart, the wheels buried in the muddy slush of the highland pass, while the mountain wind tore at the tatters of his coat. He was forty years old, a merchant of rare silks who had spent the...

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