The Pale Banner
The wind did not merely blow through the valley of Osgood; it scoured it, stripping the color from the world until only the gray bones of the earth and the black silhouettes of the dead pine trees remained. For three days, the sky had been a bruised purple, swollen with the promise of snow that refused to fall, hanging instead as a heavy, suffocating mist that clung to the skin like a damp...
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