The Golden Fox of Highland Moor

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2026-06-10 10:44:00 -

The storm came in on a Tuesday, as storms always do on the moor. Angus MacLeod felt it before he saw it—a pressure in the air, a taste of iron on the wind. He was seventy years old that year, though he felt a hundred. His wife had been gone eight years, buried in the small churchyard above the village. His son Calum was twenty-eight, reckless as a spring lamb, and gone every day into the hills...

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