Skip to content
Viking Blood
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The end.