There it was, the promise of sanctuary. If he could just get across the bridge he would be home free. But could he make the last hundred yards in his present state? Were there any of the Count’s minions lying in wait? There was only one way to find out, and Cullen pulled tight the belt that held the splint to his broken leg and drew his sword. It was all or nothing now. All that mattered in life was the bridge.
Padre
Padre's Ramblings 
Beautiful image and a fine tale to go with it.
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