The Faded Shield
The dream is always the same. It is a field of grey ash. It is cold. You stand in it. You are not alone. There are others. They are tall. They are thin. They do not have faces. They have holes where their mouths should be. You are holding something. It is heavy. It is warm. It is a shield. No, it is not a shield. It is a bird. It is a large, golden eagle. It is alive. It beats its wings against...
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