The Pale Banner
The mud sucked at my boots with a wet, tearing sound as I dragged the canvas across the muddy field. It was heavy, soaked through with rain and something darker, though I could not tell which was the blood and which was the river water. My hands, raw and bleeding, gripped the ropes until the fibers bit into my skin. Behind me, the world was screaming. Not with voices, but with the shriek of...
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