For your reading pleasure, Tempest presents yet another exquisite example of romantic narrative
Beside the Silent Influence
Waiting alone in the now-familiar confines of Kirks grass hut, with the untamable scent of almond blossoms and frangipani wafting in from outside, the frightened girl thought once more of the Chiefs handsome son, the man she had belonged to so completely. He was now, according to the gypsy woman, a prisoner in the very castle he had once owned.
|Return to a familiar clime||Your next carriage awaits|