The Golden Downtown
The road to the Abbey was not a road at all, but a scar of red earth cut through the heather, a path that seemed to have been drawn by a finger dragging through wet clay, leading us out of the world of men and into the grey, breathing silence of the moors. I walked behind Thomas, my boots sinking into the mud with a sound like a slow exhale, and I watched the back of his neck, the skin pale and...
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