The Pale Tale
The rain had not stopped for three days, turning the red clay of the valley into a thick, sucking slurry that tested the treads of every vehicle and the patience of every man. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the ridge, watching the smoke rise from the compound below, his hand resting on the grip of his service revolver. He was a man who had worn his uniform so long it had become a...
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