The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-20 10:10:38 -

The mud is cold. It seeps into your boots. You are bleeding. You do not check where. The arrow sticks in your shoulder. It hums. A low, wet sound. You pull it out. The pain is a white star. You drop it. You keep walking. The forest is dark. The trees are old. They watch you. You are the hunter. Or the hunted. It is hard to tell. The wind smells of pine and rot. You smell your father. He is...

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