The Faded Shield
The iron was already hot when Elias found the shield, and the air around the old man smelled of ozone and burnt pine, a scent that seemed to hang in the damp October mist of the moors like a physical weight. It was not a time for such things, not in the late nineteenth century when the railway tracks cut through the heather like steel veins and the factories in the valley below pumped their...
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