The Faded Shield

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2026-08-20 16:46:00 -

The Faded Shield

The mud was cold. It soaked through my boots and into the bone of my shin. I held the staff tight. It was made of ash wood. It was smooth and warm from my hands. Around me, the schoolyard was a storm of gray and green. The air smelled of wet wool and fear. We were fighting the boys from the Northside Academy. They had numbers. We had anger. I was twelve years old. I thought I was a soldier. I...

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