The Faded Photograph
The snow in the Blackwood Range did not fall; it pressed down, a heavy, grey weight that erased the line between earth and sky. Elias Thorne stood in the pass, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts that vanished instantly into the cold air. He was thirty-four years old, a border warden for twelve years, and in his left hand he clutched a tarnished silver locket that hummed with a cold,...
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