The Golden Quest
The leather of the reins bit into your palms as you guided the mare up the scree slope, the wind tearing at the hem of your greatcoat. You checked your watch. 10:14 AM. The sun was high, bleaching the gray rock to a blinding white, and the air tasted of dust and dried sage. In your breast pocket, the brass buttons of your new uniform chafed against your skin, a sharp, metallic reminder of the...
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