It was the winter solstice, a bitterly cold night. I crawled through the blood-soaked hall, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in my side, holding myself together. I crawled past Finnian’s corpse, his eyes open and blank, and then Marcher, his body prostrate. I crawled past my father, his neck shorn to the bone, and then down the corridor, knowing that if my uncle or any of his men saw me, they would realize I had lived and would grant me a proper blow. But Death seemed to overlook me that dark night.
😟 bro are you good ???
