The Distant Affair
The mud of the northern outpost had a texture that Elias Thorne had come to know as intimately as his own skin, a cold, sucking weight that pulled at his boots and seemed to draw the warmth from his very bones. He stood there, hands trembling not from the biting wind but from the hollow, gnawing ache of hunger that had become his constant companion, while Colonel Vane spoke in a voice that was...
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