Tower's Whisper

The tower was silent round them, as as though it were a habit. The outer wind had ceased, and stroked the wall of the building with a caress. Morn was slow making his way over the valley; pale and weary. Annabelle was close to the little window and gazed out upon the ash-coloured country, one hand on the cold rock. The underworld seemed broad and mute, a place that was waiting to know what they would next do.

Ezra joined her. His shoes hardly caused the area to be heard. The ...