The Pale Banner
The mud sucked at the boots. It was a wet, clinging cold that seeped through the canvas and into the bone. Sergeant Elias Thorne moved through the trench. The air tasted of cordite and wet earth. He was not afraid. He was only tired. The enemy line was visible through the fog. They were silent. They waited. The silence was heavier than the noise. Elias checked his rifle. The wood was worn...
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