November 07, 2023, 11:20 AM
Inkeri moved through the packlands. Quiet, demure. The silence that pervaded in the wake of death. She feared to stir it. So instead she fought to hold it.
The silen e of unshed tears and unshed cries. Those to weak to give more, those who thought too strong to give. Death always stirred the pot. Always and one who had been so beloved. It was more sharp.
The silen e of unshed tears and unshed cries. Those to weak to give more, those who thought too strong to give. Death always stirred the pot. Always and one who had been so beloved. It was more sharp.