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The cool morning, pale as pearl, threw tendrils of mist over the blue-gray ice. Ancient trees ringed the frozen water; their dark limbs seemed to hold up the sky. Frost silvered the earth, and all around was the whisper of water, breaking loose winter's bonds. A thrush called from within the wood. There was no sign of the horses.
—
The Winter of the Witch
(book)
by Katherine Arden
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| Language: | English |
| Submitted by: | Kidney13 |
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