The Shadow of the Moors
The rain in the North Riding of Yorkshire did not fall; it lingered, a grey shroud that clung to the jagged edges of the moors. Arthur stood by the window of his study, the smell of old parchment and dried moss filling the room. He was a man of science, a botanist who believed that every living thing had a place in a grand, orderly catalog. Until the day the order broke. It happened in a...
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