The Distant Affair
The harvest party was loud. The air tasted of roasted pork and spilled ale. Crows circled the thatched roof of the barn. They watched. They waited. Elara stood by the door. She held a basket. Her hands were stained with ink. Not blood. Ink. She was a tinker. She fixed clocks. She mended the gears of time for the village. But the village did not pay for time. They paid for grain. They paid for...
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