The Wistful Show
The wind off the moor did not howl. It whispered. It scraped against the stone walls of the old manor like dry fingernails on a chalkboard. Elias Vane stood by the window. He held the cage. Inside, a hawk slept. Its feathers were matted with dust and blood. It was a rough bird. A scavenger. Elias had found it in the hedgerow that morning. Broken wing. Open eye. He had wrapped it in his shirt....
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