The Distant Legend
"Did you eat?" The voice is not unkind. It is tired. It is the voice of a man who has watched the sun go down on a field of grey stone and felt his own bones turn to flint. You look up. Your father is standing in the doorway of the barracks. He wears his uniform, but it hangs loose now. The brass buttons are dull. He holds a bowl. It is wooden. It is old. The wood is worn smooth by years of...
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