The Pale Banner
Thorne, you’re bleeding." The voice came from the boy, small and sharp against the roar of the wind. Elias didn’t look down. He looked up, at the white cloth that hung in the air like a sheet on a clothesline, snapping taut with every gust. It was not a sheet. It was not a trick of the light, nor the trapped air currents he had written about in his preliminary report to the Department of Land...
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