The Golden Song
The rain fell in sheets. It hammered the tin roof of the outpost. It drummed a relentless, hollow rhythm. Elias sat by the cold stove. His hands were still. They rested on his knees. They were large, scarred hands. The skin was thick. The veins stood out like dark rivers. He looked at them. He knew them. He loved them. The door opened. Cold air rushed in. It carried the smell of wet earth. It...
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