The Distant Clue
The frost bit deep into the soil. It was a sharp, white silence. The boy walked. His boots crunched against the ice. He carried a satchel. Inside, a loaf of bread. Inside, a knife. The blade was dull. It had not been sharpened in a week. He did not care. The hunger was a constant thing. A low hum in the gut. The forest stretched out before him. The trees were bare. They stood like skeletal...
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