The Distant Journey
"The coat is ruined." The words hung in the air, cold and sharp as the frost forming on the windowpane. Elias stood by the mirror. He did not look at the glass. He looked at the fabric. It was a heavy wool, once the color of deep pine, now faded to the grey of ash. A tear ran down the left sleeve. A smear of blood, dark and dried, stained the collar. Elias turned to the room. The house was...
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