The Faded Shield
The letter lay on the table, its seal broken, the paper stained with a dark, viscous spot that looked less like ink and more like dried blood. It was a notice from the Colonial Survey Office, dated three weeks prior, informing me that my tenure on the Blackwood Ridge was being reviewed for "anomalies in topographical fidelity." I did not sign it. I did not burn it. I simply watched the stain...
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