The Distant Joke
The mud on the road to Oakhaven was not merely wet; it was a living, sucking thing that seemed to know your name and hold you there for punishment, and you, Elias, dragged your boots through it with the heavy, deliberate gait of a man who has run out of both coin and dignity. You were a physician by trade, a wanderer by necessity, and a debtor by circumstance, carrying in your satchel a vial of...
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