The Pale Banner
You are standing in the mud when the shot finally lands, and it is not a bullet that strikes you but the sudden, violent silence of the snowfall ceasing mid-air, as if the winter itself has drawn a breath and held it. You are a constable, or you were, before the town of Oakhaven decided that your badge was a stain on its white, quiet reputation. The object in your hand, the one you have been...
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