The Wistful Show
The rain fell in sheets. Thick, cold, and relentless. It hammered against the canvas of the tent. It soaked through the wool. It seeped into the bone. Elias Vance lay on his back. His eyes were open. He watched the ceiling. The canvas was gray. It was wet. It was heavy. He could hear the water. It sounded like a drum. It sounded like a warning. He had been here for three days. The fever had...
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