The Distant Wound
Elias. The word hangs in the air, sharp as a scalpel. You turn. Thomas Bradshaw stands at the edge of the salt mine, his face a mask of official disapproval. He is the High Elder, the man who signs the death warrants and the pay stubs, the man who decides who eats and who starves. He is also the man who told you to put down the knife. "Get back to the pick," he says. His voice is low, but it...
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