The Pale Shadows
I woke from a dream of teeth. My father’s teeth. They were white and sharp and falling out of his mouth into the mud. I lay in the straw bed, the wood of the frame creaking under my weight. The air was cold. It smelled of wet wool and old iron. I sat up. My hands were shaking. The camp was silent. We were deep in the moor, far from the walls of the city. The sky was a bruised purple, heavy with...
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