The Distant Legend
The frost had eaten the map. I watched the ink bleed from the parchment, the black lines of the coastline dissolving into a pale, watery gray that matched the light outside. It was a slow death, the kind that happens in old houses where the woodwork weeps and the air tastes of damp wool and dust. I held the map up to the window, trying to trace the river that had once cut through the valley...
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