The Distant Nightmare
The rain did not fall so much as it descended, a cold, grey static that blurred the horizon where the heath met the sky, and it was in this relentless downpour that Sergeant Elias Thorne stood, his hand resting on the hilt of his sidearm, watching the small, shivering figure of his sister, Martha, who clutched a tin of preserved peaches to her chest as if it were a holy relic, a singular point...
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