The Distant Blade
You are leaving. The horse is packed. The saddle is ready. The town sleeps behind the iron gates, a beast of stone and shadow. You do not look back. You cannot. The road is cold. The air bites. Your breath clouds, thin and white, vanishing before it can form a word. You carry a case. Leather. Heavy. Inside, the shards. They rattle. A dry, dead sound. Like bones. Who are you? You ask yourself....
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