The Pale Tale

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2026-08-18 21:08:14 -

The Pale Tale

The rain tasted of iron. It slicked the mud on my boots. I wiped my face. The blood was mine. Or maybe it was his. I didn’t look. I kept walking. The forest was dark. The trees leaned in. They watched. We had been marching for hours. The air was cold. It bit my lungs. I was a soldier. I was a tool. I did not think. I only moved. My rifle was heavy. It dragged against my shoulder. The weight was...

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