Wolf of the Barrens
I. The sun over the Boone cotton field did not rise; it invaded. It came like a white flame licking the edge of the Mississippi horizon, dry and absolute, and by the time Eli was old enough to climb the fence post behind the house, the heat was already a weight you could feel on your shoulders like a wet blanket. Eli Boone was eight years old and thin as a rail, built from cotton dust and sun...
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