The Distant Joke
The road was red. It was a thick, caked sludge of clay and dried blood that had turned to dust in the unrelenting sun. Elara walked with a limp. Her left foot dragged. The boot was soaked through. She did not look down. To look down was to admit the weight of the body. She carried a satchel. Inside the satchel was a single jar. The jar was glass. It was heavy. It contained a paste. The paste...
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