The Faded Shield
The mud on your boots is not merely dirt; it is the liquefied memory of every field you have trampled in your haste to outrun the past, a thick, sucking black that binds your ankles to the earth even as you strive to walk forward into the unknown. You are running, or perhaps you are fleeing, though the distinction has blurred in the fog that hangs low over the valley, a heavy grey shroud that...
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