The Wistful Dinner

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2026-08-17 19:34:34 -

The candle on the table sputtered, a thin tongue of yellow flame trembling against the draft that seeped through the chinks in the oak shutters. It was a small fire, barely enough to push back the encroaching dark of the Scottish moor, yet it seemed to hold the entire weight of the night. Sir Alistair sat alone, the remnants of a meal before him untouched. A hunk of dark bread, a wedge of sharp...

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