The Distant Clue
The mud sucks at your boots with a wet, rhythmic pull, as if the earth itself is trying to drag you down into the dark. You are moving through the heath, the rain a fine, cold mist that soaks through the wool of your cloak and chills the bone beneath. There is no sun, only a grey, oppressive sky that seems to press against the highland ridge. You are not alone, though you feel as though you...
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