The frost on the windowpane did not melt. It sharpened. I watched it from the desk, a lattice of ice that trapped the light of the tallow candle in a thousand tiny, screaming diamonds. Outside, the village of Oakhaven slept under a blanket of snow that was not snow, but ash. It had been falling for three days. A gray, choking dust that settled on the shoulders of the dead and the living alike....
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