The Distant Journey
The wind did not howl. It whispered. It moved through the tall, dry grass of the valley floor with a sound like dry leaves skittering across a stone floor, a dry, papery rustle that seemed to come from inside the earth itself. Elias stood at the edge of the cliff, his fingers white-knuckled around the hilt of a knife that had not seen blood in years. His hand trembled. Not from cold, though the...
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