The Distant Affair
The wind in the highlands did not howl; it whispered, a low and constant thrum that seemed to vibrate directly in the bones of Elara. She stood at the edge of the cliff, the wool of her cloak heavy with the dampness of the morning, watching the grey sea stretch out below, unchanging and indifferent. The village of Oakhaven lay far behind her, a cluster of thatched roofs and smoke-stained...
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