Wrenford
Wrenford lies in a riverbend where reeds and fruit trees slope to a stone quay, and narrow alleys rise toward an old oak on the hill; boats and cart traffic weave the place together and every roof smells faintly of smoke and drying fish. The village is a stop for small traders and a refuge for folk who prefer the river's slow rules to the market town's faster life.
Wrenford
Where the river keeps secrets and lanterns never go out.
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