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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
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.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The end.