The Wistful Mountain

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 23:54:04 -

The hall smelled of stale beer and wet wool. It was the annual muster for the Highland Constabulary, a night of clinking mugs and loud laughter that felt like a shield against the coming winter. Thomas stood near the back, his uniform pressed tight against a body that was no longer his. The fabric was woolen, heavy, dark green. It had been with him for twenty years. It had been with him since...

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