The Distant Joke

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2026-08-22 11:53:02 -

The Distant Joke

The iron bit of the sword was already in my mouth, tasting of rust and old blood, when I first saw the line of fog rolling across the valley floor. It was not a natural mist, for it moved with a deliberate, slithering grace, coiling around the ancient oaks of the Whispering Hollow like a living thing that sought to swallow the light whole. I stood there, my hands trembling not from the cold but...

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