The Wistful Saga
The avalanche did not roar so much as it exhaled, a long, white sigh that swallowed the valley and erased the line between the mountain and the sky. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the treeline, his rifle heavy in his hands, watching the dust settle over the place where his father’s cabin had been. He was a man built for the cold, with shoulders that had carried packs through blizzards and a...
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