The Distant Threshold
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, cold mist that clung to the wool of my cloak and seeped into the marrow of my bones, a persistent, invisible weight that pressed against the sides of my chest where the ache of loss had long since settled its permanent, silent residence. I walked along the narrow, muddy track that wound through the heather and the bare, skeletal branches of...
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