The Faded Dust

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2026-08-18 12:41:48 -

The Faded Dust

The carriage wheels groaned against the loose gravel, a sound like dry bones snapping in the dark. Thomas Whitmore sat in the corner of the covered wagon, his knees pressed together to keep his hands from trembling. Beside him, a small leather satchel rested on the seat. It was worn smooth by years of handling, the leather faded to the color of old ash. Inside, wrapped in oilcloth, were the...

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