The Distant Legend
The rain had not stopped for three days, and it turned the mud on the road to the capital into a slurry that swallowed the horses’ hooves whole. Elias Vane drove the cart with a grip on the reins so tight his knuckles had gone the color of old bone, his eyes fixed on the grey, weeping sky that seemed to press down on the timber crate strapped to the back of his wagon. He was a man of few words,...
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