The Wistful Silence
The wind did not howl so much as it sighed, a long, ragged exhalation of the ancient moors that stripped the flesh from the bone and left only the shivering architecture of the world. Edward Ashworth walked with the heavy, deliberate cadence of a man whose joints had begun to calcify under the weight of years and winters, his boots sinking into the peat like stones dropping into a dark, still...
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