The Faded River
The rain hits the mud with a sound like wet gravel. It is cold. You pull the coat tighter. The wool is thick. It is heavy. It smells of damp earth and old smoke. You are walking. You have been walking for hours. The road is narrow. It cuts through the hills. The sky is low and grey. It presses down on your shoulders. You feel the weight of the coat. It is not just wool. It is history. It is...
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