The Golden Echoes
You are holding it wrong. The voice was not loud, nor was it particularly sharp, yet it cut through the low, rhythmic thumping of the distant drums that had been growing louder for the last three days. Elias Thorne did not look up. He adjusted the strap of his pack against his shoulder, the leather biting into the bruised flesh of his trap, and continued walking along the muddy track that wound...
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