“Cold. Foggy cold. Soaking through fabric, biting into the skin, clutching the bones until flesh crawled. There was no moonlight, only orange, smoky lanterns, and the light made the snow glitter and turned the shadows into blood.” — Erik Tavares Copy Share Image
“A snap of bone echoed behind them, the bloody cry of a lamb that had wandered into the dark.” — Erik Tavares Copy Share Image
“Cold. Foggy cold. Soaking through fabric, biting into the skin, clutching the bones until flesh crawled. There was no moonlight, only orange, smoky lanterns,… — Erik Tavares Copy Share Image
