The Pale Shadows
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the world outside the window into a blurred watercolor of mud and dying leaves, and inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp wool and the metallic tang of old blood that seemed to cling to the fabric of the curtains, a scent that Margaret could not wash away no matter how many times she scrubbed the...
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