The Distant Wound
The road was not a path but a wound in the earth, a long, grey scar that bled mud into the boot of Elias Thorne. He walked with the mechanical precision of a man who had forgotten how to stop. In his left hand, he held the ledger. In his right, he held nothing, though his fingers twitched, reaching for a hilt that had not existed for twenty years. The air smelled of wet iron and rotting grain....
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