The Distant Whispers
Mara. The word hung in the wet air, thin and sharp, as if the wind itself had spat it out. She stood in the mud of the ridge, her boots sinking into the cold slurry of the hillside. Beside her, David lay still. His face was turned away, hidden in the earth, and the silence around him was so heavy it pressed against her eardrums. She wanted to walk. She wanted to walk to the county line, twenty...
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