The Distant Journey
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the dirt track that wound down from the high moors into a slick, sucking trench of mud that clung to the soles of Thomas’s boots with a tenacity that felt less like earth and more like a living thing. He walked with a heavy, rhythmic gait, his shoulders hunched against the wind that cut through his threadbare wool coat, the cold seeping into the...
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