The Wistful Incense
The rain did not fall so much as it was exhaled by the sky, a thick, cold mist that clung to the wool of the travelers' cloaks and turned the mud of the road into a sucking, dark mire. In the center of this gloom, huddled beneath the rotting awning of a roadside tavern called The Broken Wheel, sat a creature that the locals had stopped trying to name and had simply started to fear. It was a...
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