The Pale Fracture
You leave the gate. The iron is cold. It bites your palm. You do not feel it. You feel only the weight of the coat. It is heavy. Wool and dust. It smells of smoke. It smells of you. The road stretches out. It is gray. The sky is gray. The world has lost its color. You walk. Your boots strike the mud. Thud. Thud. Thud. A rhythm. A heartbeat. You are a soldier. You were a soldier. Now you are...
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