The Litany of Ash
I. The moorlands of Yorkshire do not forgive. They are a bruised purple expanse of heather and peat, where the wind howls with the voices of a thousand drowned souls. Elias Thorne lived here in a cottage that seemed to be sinking into the earth, a reflection of his own spirit. He was a man of silence, a man of the soil, until the day the Hound came. It was not a wolf, though it had the hunger...
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