The Distant Crown
You feel the impact before you hear the crack of the rifle. It is a dull, heavy thud that travels up from your boots, through the damp wool of your trousers, and settles in the center of your chest like a stone dropped into a well. The air in the mine is thick, tasting of sulfur and stale sweat, a physical weight that presses against your lungs. You are a man who has spent forty years fighting...
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