The Faded Dust

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2026-08-22 05:45:19 -

The Faded Dust

The wind did not howl across the high moors of the Scottish Highlands in those days, not in the way the poets of the lowlands later imagined it to be; it rather pressed against the ear like a physical weight, a dense, cold solid that sought to unseat the very marrow of the bone. I stood at the edge of the treeline, watching the last of my companions descend into the mist-shrouded valley below,...

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