The Distant Blade
The iron gate groaned, a sound like a throat clearing after a long silence. Thomas stood before it, twelve years old and shivering, though the October air in Ashworth Valley was not cold enough to freeze the breath. He wanted to push it open. He wanted to prove he was strong, that the boy who had coughed blood into his handkerchief last winter was dead, that he was ready to take the weight of...
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