The Distant Summer

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2026-08-20 08:57:18 -

The horse was dead. It lay in the ditch. Its legs were stiff. The flies were thick. They hummed a low, black note. Elias sat on the ridge. He held his musket. The barrel was cold. He did not move. The wind cut through his coat. It was thin. It offered no warmth. He had walked for three days. His boots were soaked. His feet bled. He did not feel it. Pain was a distant thing. It lived in a house...

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