The Faded Dust
The fire had taken the granary before dawn, a slow, red blooming in the dark that turned the morning air to ash. Thomas Bradshaw stood at the edge of the field, his boots sinking into the cold, wet earth, and watched the smoke rise like a grey ghost into the pale sky. He was a man of the law, a keeper of the peace in this forgotten corner of the highlands, but the fire had stripped him of his...
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