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“The early morning mountain mist is spread over the valley like a large, gray blanket. Underneath it, the tiny hamlet, snug and settled, rests easy. It is early autumn and the rich greenery of summer is beginning to give way to brown, red, orange, and gold hues that will become more pronounced as the sun comes up over the mountains in the eastern sky.”
— Robert Santelli, The Appalachians
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“Dusty”
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Standing at the threshold, he searched the darkness. He couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean something wasn’t there, lurking outside the reach of light. Watching. Waiting. He knew it was out there. He’d seen it. And it’d seen him . . .