The Dust and the Dawn
Clara’s boots creaked with every step, the leather stiff from weeks on the trail. The air reeked of sweat and smoke, a thin haze clinging to the horizon where the sun hung low. She squinted at the cluster of tents…
Jazz Music
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The Sierra Trail
The first time Eliza saw the Sierra Nevada, she thought they were mountains of glass. Snow glinted off jagged peaks like shattered mirrors, and the air smelled of pine and iron. She tightened her grip on the reins, her knuckles…