The Wistful Show
The fire had taken the roof by mid-morning, the smoke turning the sky over Oakhaven into a bruised purple that hung low and heavy against the treeline. Elias Thorne stood in the street, his boots caked in ash, watching the remnants of his home collapse into a pile of charred timber that smelled of wet pine and old dust. He was forty years old, a Ranger with a pension that was three months...
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