The Wistful Silence
The rain has been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that blurs the edges of the world and turns the dirt road into a slurry of brown mud that sucks at your boots with a wet, tearing sound. You are walking. You have been walking since the sun went down behind the jagged teeth of the northern hills, and now, as the light begins to fade into a bruised purple twilight, you see the...
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