The Distant Threshold
The carriage wheels groaned against the packed mud of the King’s Highway, a sound that mirrored the deep, grinding ache in Elara’s lower back, a pain so constant it had ceased to be a sensation and had become a geography, a landscape of soreness that defined the contours of her days as clearly as the rolling hills of the Shire of Ashworth defined the horizon beyond the window. She sat rigid on...
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