The Distant Summer
The sap oozed from the great oak in the abbey courtyard like a slow, amber hemorrhage, pooling in the frost-hardened dirt with a scent that Elara recognized with a jolt of visceral horror as the lavender and cedar oil her brother Thomas had used on his skin before he died. She stood in the shadow of the nave, her hands gripping the rough stone of the wall, watching the tree bleed against the...
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