The wind felt cold and repulsive. Grey clouds loomed in the sky, and every warrior could feel it, especially the elves: blood was in the air.
The elf princeling took in the aroma of copper; it wasn't the blood he was used to. It wasn't the blood of any creature he'd hunted, or any damned beast from the Underworlds.
This blood was human. And this blood smelled of fear.
Humans have never walked these lands.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Book 4
Poesiehello again! another poetry book - number four, to be exact. if you've been here a while, you know the drill: there's no order to this thing, and after 100 poems or writing pieces, there's gonna be a new book. about the cover: it was a Thursday at S...
