The Distant Wound
The carriage wheels ground against the frozen mud of the estate’s driveway, a rhythmic, grinding screech that seemed to tear at the silence of the valley as Thomas Ashworth stepped down onto the gravel with a limp that had long since ceased to be painful and had instead become a part of his skeleton, a structural defect he carried like a secret. The manor house loomed ahead of him, a monolith...
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