The Distant Blade
The mud on our boots was thick as blood, a viscous, dark paste that sucked at our heels with every step, as if the earth itself were trying to swallow us whole. We had been walking for three days, or perhaps four; time had lost its sharp edges, blurring into a continuous, gray smear of exhaustion and hunger. My brother, Elias, walked ahead of me, his back hunched under the weight of a pack that...
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