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... single path cut through them, pale stone, it was worn but smooth, leading towards a distant city crowded in gold.

The air smelled of fruit and wheat, the kind of scent that reminded him of harvest festivals; he had experienced some himself, but not many, so it brought him back. Birds wheeled lazily overhead, too at peace to fear the figures who had just arrived. He could hear laughter somewhere; it was faint, drifting from a village near the foot of the hill.

White cottages sat ...

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