The Distant Clue
The mud of the valley floor was thick, a clinging brown paste that swallowed the boots of the two men wading through the rain. Silas Vane did not look back at the men pursuing him, nor did he look forward at the ridge where the mist coiled like a living thing. He looked only at the hand of his companion, the one that gripped his own wrist with a force that spoke of years of shared silence and...
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