The Silent Guardian of the Pines
The wind in the Blackwood Valley did not blow; it sighed, a heavy, rhythmic sound that mirrored the breathing of the old man who lived in the hollow of the ridge. Elias had lived in the valley for forty years, a man of few words and fewer friends. He was a remnant of a time when men spoke to the earth and the earth answered in the language of stone and root. Forty years ago, Elias had been a...
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