The Golden Song
The rain in the Highlands does not fall; it hangs, a suspended grey curtain that swallows the world. I am Sergeant Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, and for the first time in my service, the ground beneath my boots feels less like earth and more like a living thing, shifting and resisting my weight. In my pack, wrapped in oilskin that has long since failed to keep the damp out, lies the...
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