The Distant Threshold
The rain did not fall so much as it settled, a fine, gray mist that clung to the wool of your coat and seeped into the marrow of your bones, a physical weight that mirrored the administrative burden you carried. You stood at the edge of the moor, the path behind you already dissolving into the churned mud of your departure, while ahead lay the treacherous stretch of heathland that separated the...
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