It had taken too long to get to this point. Two wars, three continents, dozens of countries. Decades had passed, and only now was Ranulf finding how low his despair could take him.
He sat in the only chair he had bothered to bring with him, staring at the fireplace, the only source of light in the small cabin. Amon nuzzled his hand, whining softly, but Ranulf remained unresponsive.
The bottle of whiskey in his hand was bone dry, but by morning it would be shattered against the wall. Ranulf had let himself become a broken man, isolated, and alone.
He sat in the only chair he had bothered to bring with him, staring at the fireplace, the only source of light in the small cabin. Amon nuzzled his hand, whining softly, but Ranulf remained unresponsive.
The bottle of whiskey in his hand was bone dry, but by morning it would be shattered against the wall. Ranulf had let himself become a broken man, isolated, and alone.
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