Lonely Shrubs of Destiny
The moon hung low, its silver light filtering through the tangled branches of the forest. A thin mist hugged the ground, curling around the bare feet of a young man limping along the narrow dirt path. He wore tattered clothes, and his face, half-hidden behind a mop of dark hair, was smudged with dirt and despair. Each step seemed to take more out of him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of something heavier than fatigue.
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