The Fox in the Mist
The fog clung to the Yorkshire moors like a shroud, thick and suffocating. Thomas Grey pulled his coat tighter against the damp chill as he pushed through the bracken, his boots sinking into the peat. He had been searching for hours for a lost sheep, but the mist had swallowed the landscape whole. Then he saw it—a fox, sitting motionless on a moss-covered stone. Its fur was pure white, unlike...
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