The fox stood at the crest of Bramble Hill, where the road curved down toward the village. Smoke curled from chimneys. Laughter carried on the wind—was that old Badger’s wheeze,...
Russet Foxglove
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Russet Floxglove
Russet Foxglove grew up in a village so small it never earned a name, nestled in the shadow of Bramble Hill. Life there moved with the seasons—planting in spring, harvest...