The Golden Crossing
The water is gold today. "Is it ready?" I asked, my voice sounding thin against the damp air. Julian did not look up from the oars he was sharpening. The whetstone rasped against the steel, a dry, grinding sound that seemed to pull the warmth from my hands. "The tide is low, Elias. You know the rule. No crossing before the equinox. The river does not like to be hurried." "Father is not waiting...
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