The rain had been falling for three days when the serpent took the farmer's daughter.
It came out of the peat bog at dusk, a nightmare of scales and muscle moving with impossible speed across the moorland. The villagers of Blackmoor heard her scream—a sound that still haunted their dreams—and then silence. When the men of the village mustered with pitchforks and rifles, they found only her shawl torn to ribbons on the bog's edge and the great coils of the Fen Serpent retreating...
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