The Golden Farce
The mud was deep. It sucked at my boots with a wet, heavy pull. I was running. My lungs burned like bellows. The hounds were close. I could hear their snapping teeth and the ragged gasp of their breath. I turned a corner in the hedge. A branch whipped my face. I kept going. I had to reach the gate. If I reached the gate, I was safe. If I reached the gate, I was home. I saw the white stone of...
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