Life in Tepec became cold to the touch. Citizens fondled their coats, looking for holes to mend. Gardens decayed into formless brown. Chitzals headed for the southern orchards and sustained themselves on frozen, nearly impregnable opos. On the river made of hate, ragged shelves of ice formed and grew toward the middle. Like a healing wound, the moat began to close. The opoch called Lamux was famous for sudden snows. Made of purple vapor, lit by a jade sun, the flakes were the luxurious blue of unoxygenated blood. Twice already they had lightly burst upon Quetzalia like seeds from a farmer’s palm, and both times Iztac had burned them away. But now it was snowing with conviction, in such quantities that the citizens decided to stay by their hearths. If Darwin arrives today, they told themselves, the news will spread soon enough, and, besides, this tea is warm and sweet. Alone on the wall, Francis paced, shivered, and waited for the overdue ship.
What do You think about The Wine Of Violence (2014)?
