The Pale Door
The mud sucked at my boots. Thick. Brown. Alive. I dragged my leg. The spear snapped. Wood splintered against the shield wall. I am Thomas. I am the shield. The man before me fell. He did not scream. He simply folded. Like wet paper. I stepped over his body. The rain did not stop. It never stops in the valley of the White Stones. My brother walked beside me. Edward. His eyes were wide. Too...
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