“Cold. Foggy cold. Soaking through fabric, biting into the skin, clutching the bones until flesh crawled.There was no moonlight, only orange, smoky lanterns, and the light made the snow glitter and turned the shadows into blood.”
Erik Tavares“Cold. Foggy cold. Soaking through fabric, biting into the skin, clutching the bones until flesh crawled.There was no moonlight, only orange, smoky lanterns, and the light made the snow glitter and turned the shadows into blood.”
Erik Tavares, House of Corruption