The Distant Promise
The mud was not merely wet but alive, a thick, sucking paste that seemed to pull at Elias Thorne’s boots with a hunger that matched his own, and as he hauled the heavy iron cross of the Seventh Division through the grey, churning slurry of the valley floor, he felt the weight of it not in his shoulders but in his very marrow, a dense, cold anchor that tethered him to the earth even as the fog...
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