The Wistful Voyage
The road is broken. You know this. You have measured it with your boots, with the drag of your pack, with the silence that follows every step. It is a path of red clay and white stone, winding through a forest that has no name on any map you have studied. You are walking away from the village of Oakhaven, a place of thatched roofs and low stone walls, a place that smells of wet wool and...
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