The Distant Summer
The name Elias Thorne was not spoken so much as spat into the damp air of the morning, a sound that carried the weight of the previous night’s failure and the threat of the coming winter. He stood at the edge of his leased plot in Oakhaven, where the stone-walled village clung to the hillside like lichen on old oak, and watched the boundary stone at the corner of his field split down the...
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