The Distant Legend
The leather of your hands has never been quite so hard as it is now. You can feel the ridges of the calluses beneath your fingernails, a topography of labor that you have built up over thirty years of binding, stitching, and mending. You are Thomas, and you are a tanner, though the title feels like a borrowed coat that no longer fits. The workshop is cold, a stone cellar that smells of lye and...
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