The Pale Path
Chapter One "You’re bleeding, Prasert," the Captain said, his voice slurring over the rim of his clay cup. "A scratch is a scratch. Do not make a scene of it." I looked down at my forearm. The skin was bruised a pale, sickly violet, mirroring the muddy path of the river outside the window. It was a mark I had not earned in the last week, yet it sat there, heavy and warm against the cold stone...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima