The Pale Path
The rain fell like a grey sheet over the moor. It did not stop. It had not stopped for three days. Elias walked. His boots were heavy. They were wet. The leather had turned to a dark, slick skin. He carried a basket. It was woven from willow. It was full. Inside the basket lay a loaf of bread. It was white. It was soft. It smelled of yeast and warmth. The bread was the only dry thing he...
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