The Distant Journey
Act I The valley below the vine slopes was a drowned thing, filled with the grey mist of a famine year where grain was hoarded in stone silos and the air tasted of wet ash. In the town of Gravenhurst, the caravan masters argued over seasonal law in the market square, their voices sharp against the clatter of hooves on cobblestone. Karin Richter stood at the edge of the crowd, twelve years old...
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