The Faded River
The rain did not fall so much as it was hurled against the face of the world, a cold, relentless assault that blurred the line between the earth and the sky, leaving only a grey, weeping void in which the forest of the Blackwood Ridge stood as a series of dark, jagged teeth biting into the horizon. I was kneeling in the mud, the wet earth soaking through the thick wool of my tunic, the chill...
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