Where the Serpent Lies
The heat in the Delta doesn't lift. It presses down on you like a hand you can't push away, heavy and certain and warm as blood just before it cools. I came back from the war thinking I understood heat. I was wrong. The heat there was dry and clean, it bit you once and left you to die where you fell. This heat—it wants you alive. It wants you to feel every inch of what you've become. The...
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