Monday, April 4, 2016

100 Words a Day 816

As the sun descended, the villagers retreated into their stone homes. No fires would banish the chill of the night. The sun was not even half-sunken before the few twisting lanes were deserted, except for the toys and tools of the village inhabitants, abandoned where they had fallen. An outsider would think the place was unremarkable, except for the lack of people.


The interiors of their houses however, were quite unusual. The interior doors and shutters were made of heavy iron, traded from the dwarves that worked the deep mines. They were bolted tight against the creatures of the night.

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