The Pale Mist
The rain in the highlands does not fall; it settles, a gray sludge that soaks into the wool of your uniform and stays there, cold and heavy. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, a border patrol agent with two years of service left until you can secure the pension that will finally let you marry Clara. The mist is thick today, a pale, swirling fog that clings to the tree line like a...
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