The Distant Ghost
The wind cut through the wool of Alderman’s coat. It was a sharp blade. He pulled the collar higher. The snow fell in silent sheets. The road ahead was a white void. He walked alone. His boots crunched against the frozen earth. Each step was a measured strike. The terrain was hostile. The trees stood like sentinels. They offered no shelter. Only judgment. Alderman was a man of structure. He...
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