All feedback is welcomed, but please make all criticism consturctive in nature. thank you.
prologue:
with empty brass lining the way, a lone soldier wanders the fields wounded physically and emotionally.
Death, Poetry, Soldier, War, survival
Written by Exilo
Unnamed vixen belongs to Exilo
Ty is mine
The fence was a bit higher than Ty's ears (it was eight feet to be precise), and made from a durable, weather resistant metal. Hundreds of vertical bars had been driven into the ground at...
Consturction, Macro, Micro, Soltaur, Vixen