The Faded Ruin
The rain in the lowlands did not fall so much as it settled, a grey, sullen blanket that smothered the cracked pavement of Sector Four and the rusted iron gates of the Reclamation Center. Margaret Holloway stood on the threshold, her boots caked in the distinctive red clay of the outer wastes, the mud caking the laces, the soles, the very skin of her shins, a testament to the long, arduous trek...
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