The Pale Door
The dream came first, as it always did, a pale door cracking open in the fog, but I was awake now, standing in the loom room where the silence was so heavy it pressed against my eardrums. I needed to save Thomas before the winter froze the roads, and the only way was to deal with the mill owner, a man who had taken our home and our dignity in equal measure. The snow had stopped falling, leaving...
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