PREVIEW
... the valley. The wind passed between the ropes and made the iron rings jingle like a discreet death knell.
Inside, the air smelled of hot wax and leather. Candles placed on the table, next to oil lamps, let out a thin smoke, thick at times, mingling with the constant rustling of the parchment.
Sitting, my pen gripped so tightly my fingers had turned white, I scribbled again, again.
The lines crossed each other, nervous scratches, arrows drawn in haste, numbers crossed out ...
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