The Distant Legend
The iron ring on your left hand is cold, heavier than it should be, and it has started to bite into the flesh of your knuckles in a way that reminds you of the first frost that hit the orchards back in the valley, a chill that didn’t just sit on the surface but seeped into the bone and stayed there long after the sun had returned, so you keep flexing your fingers under the desk, trying to shake...
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