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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The end.