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,...
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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...