The Distant Summer
The mud was not merely wet but alive, a thick, sucking entity that fought against every boot and bone of Sergeant Elias Thorne as he dragged the broken fence post across the polder, the rain falling in sheets that blurred the horizon into a gray, weeping smear where the earth met the sky and the air tasted of iron and rot and the heavy, cloying scent of the fen that had swallowed his unit three...
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