The Distant Cartograph
The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a gray, relentless curtain that blurred the edge of the world where the heath met the sky, and I stood at the threshold of the old stone house with my hands trembling so violently that I could barely keep the parchment dry against my chest. It was the morning of the third day, and the silence in the valley was so heavy it felt like a physical weight...
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