The Distant Nightmare
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey curtain that erased the boundary between the moor and the sky, turning the landscape into a single, breathing entity of wet wool and cold stone. I stood at the edge of the treeline, my boots sinking into the peat, and watched the column of wagons disappear into the mist. There was no sound to mark their departure, no clatter of...
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