Wednesday, October 7, 2015

100 Words a Day 715

The mine was little more than a hole in the ground, but the sound of the picks striking the rock were the heartbeat of the settlement and without that regular beat the people of Redwell would surely die. Loads of ore were brought up via a squeaky pulley and deposited into carts waiting to take them to the furnace. Once the iron had been smelted it was boxed up neatly in crates labeled Redwell. These crates of iron then made their way to the far ends of the empire, where their contents were forged into the tools of daily life.

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