The Wistful Petal

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2026-08-19 04:44:45 -

The Wistful Petal

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey veil that turned the jagged teeth of the Appalachian ridge into a smudge of charcoal against a white sky. I stood at the edge of the treeline, my boots sinking into the mud, the weight of my service rifle heavy across my chest, a deadwood limb that had ceased to offer protection and now only served as a reminder of the...

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