The Distant Legend
The wind cuts through your coat. It finds the gaps in the wool, the places where the stitching has frayed from years of wear. You do not pull your collar up. You let it bite. You are walking the ridge line. The path is narrow. It is a scar in the earth. Below you, the valley is a gray bowl. Above, the sky is a sheet of hammered iron. You are a scholar. You study the law. You study the words...
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