When Leif touched the stranger’s fingers, she finally realized that his skin was far rougher and much colder than Natiaveda’s. She immediately snatched her hand back and gripped her machete.
“Who are you?”
A man’s voice came from somewhere ahead and above.
“Poor traveler, how did you end up in the Danse Desert? You never should have come here. Lost, are you?”
The owner of the hand gradually emerged from the haze. He was a tall, lean young man wearing a dark orange-red robe. His voice was hoarse, and his accent resembled that of the southerners, though it was...
This is a PREMIUM chapter. It will be available shortly but if you would like to read it now, please subscribe to our PREMIUM membership plan. IF YOU ARE A MEMBER THEN LOGIN FIRST PLEASE. LOGIN HERE
