The Faded Guest

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2026-08-18 03:28:47 -

The Faded Guest

The iron bit dug into the horse’s mouth, a cold bite that mirrored the ache in my jaw. We were running. The dust of the road kicked up a cloud of grey ochre, blinding the sun. My hands were numb, wrapped tight around the reins, knuckles white. The weight of the musket on my back thumped against my spine with every gallop, a second heartbeat. I did not look back. To look back was to admit the...

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