The Faded Shield
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray sheet that turned the mud of the Blackwood Pass into a churning slurry that swallowed our boots up to the ankles and seeped into the bones of every man in the column until we felt less like soldiers and more like wet, rotting logs dragged by the current of a river we could no longer see. I walked at the back of the line, my rifle...
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