The Night Walker's Eyes
I. The morning I found Shadow, the sky was the colour of a bruised plum, heavy and swollen with rain that never fell. Her collar lay in the mud beside the old stone wall at the foot of Arthur Seat, the silver tag bent nearly in two, the leather strap torn as though by teeth far larger than any dog should fear. I knelt there for a long time, pressing my palms into the wet earth until the cold...
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