The Distant Promise
The fog did not roll in so much as it invaded, a thick, white gauze that swallowed the heathland whole until the world was nothing but a suffocating grey void and the wet, cold bite of the air against your skin. You stood at the edge of the cliff, your fingers digging into the rough bark of a dying gorse bush, your knuckles white, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps that tasted of iron...
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