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The Dragon’s Hoard
Category: Fantasy
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.