The Faded Dust
The mud was thick and brown, sucking at the boots of the men of the 4th Dragoons as they formed a line against the treeline. Captain Elias Thorne stood at the front, his saber drawn, the steel trembling not from fear but from the sheer, brutal effort of holding the shape. He was a lean man, his face a map of old scars and newer exhaustion, his eyes fixed on the dark mouth of the forest where...
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