The Pale Verdict
The road into the valley of Ashenmoor was not a road at all but a scar in the earth, a jagged line of mud and crushed stone that wound through the weeping willows and the silent, stone-faced houses of a community that had forgotten the sound of its own laughter years before the last frost had taken the harvest and the light. Margaret Holloway walked this scar with the heavy, deliberate gait of...
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