The Faded Bouquet
The rain did not fall so much as it invaded the valley, a cold, persistent mist that clung to the wool of Elias Thorne’s coat and seeped into the marrow of his bones. He walked the narrow, unmarked path that wound through the dense, ancient pines, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts that vanished into the grey air before they could form words. There was no destination in mind, only the...
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