The Black Blood
The mud was black and smelled of copper. My father told me not to use it too much, and I didn't listen. I was twenty-six and confident, and confidence is just stupidity wearing a suit. I mixed the mud with water and certain roots -- goldenseal, echinacea, a few others I'd learned from my grandmother -- and applied it to the wound on Josiah's leg. The wound was six inches long, running from his...
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