The Golden Harbor
The Fens breathed out a heavy, wet sigh that rolled over the flat, waterlogged fields of Oakhaven, where the air hung heavy with rotting reeds and the distant, grinding thrum of the mill race that separated the plantation from the world beyond. In this peninsular stretch of land, where the road was a single, muddy ribbon cutting through the marsh, Dorothy Cranfield stood in the scribe’s room,...
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