The Pale Echo
The coat is blue. You know this because you see it hanging on the hook by the door, though you have not touched it in three days. It is a heavy thing, wool woven thick against the biting wind of the northern passes. It smells of damp earth and old smoke. It belongs to Thomas. Or rather, it belonged to him. Now it belongs to you, a garment of inheritance worn with a fit that is too loose, the...
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