The Pale Mist

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2026-08-23 20:36:05 -

The Pale Mist

The count of the remaining wool was three hundred and twelve strands, a number Margaret Ashworth had memorized in the cold hours before dawn, when the light in the weaving shed was thin and gray and the air tasted of damp stone. She needed to finish the shawl before the debt to the mill owner came due, a sum that had grown like a mold on their bread since Thomas’s accident three months prior....

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