The Distant Cartograph
The road was wet. It had been raining for three days. The mud sucked at the boots of Sergeant Elias Thorne. He walked. The sky was grey. It hung low over the valley. It pressed down on the trees. The trees were bare. They stood like silent witnesses. Elias held a map. It was old. The paper was yellow. The ink was faded. He did not look at it. He looked at the road. The road was a scar. It cut...
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