The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 01:24:52 -

The Pale Altar

The train stopped in the fog. I stepped out. Mud sucked at my boots. I was tired. Bone tired. I carried a crate. It was heavy. Inside, tins of preserved meat. Canned peaches. Sugar. Salt. Medicine. The war had ended, but hunger did not. I walked into the village of Oakhaven. It was a place of gray stone and black smoke. The air tasted of coal and wet wool. I was a sergeant. I wore my uniform....

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