Ashton Tupper

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Slowly, the air around them began to change, a chilling wind blowing down from the north, pushing out the last pockets of humid air, knocking the remaining autumn leaves from their branches. The moon was now high in the sky, all the jagged fingers of the bare tree limbs clawing for its rutty glow.
Slewfoot: A Tale of Bewitchery
by Brom
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