The Pale Mist
The road to Oakhaven was not a road at all, but a scar in the earth, a jagged line of mud and broken cartwheel tracks that bled into the grey mist. Elias Thorne walked it with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man who had forgotten how to stop. He was a seeker of lost things, a finder of stolen sheep and misplaced heirlooms, a man whose hands were stained permanently with the dust of other...
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