harvest moon: summer solstice
Phillip Spotswood
well bottoms have dried, have heard the baritone rumble of river and evaporated into counter-melody. villagers wake to a death march, to a song broke free from the ground.
well bottoms have dried, have heard the baritone rumble of river and evaporated into counter-melody. villagers wake to a death march, to a song broke free from the ground.
All townspeople I’m forced to interact with give me wrapped gifts: three fish, a scythe, a cookbook, a camera. They don’t seem to have much. The wizard is out of town and the priest on the hill has a graveyard but no congregation.
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