The Wistful Show
The chisel bit into the oak with a wet, fibrous tear, and Thomas Bradshaw wiped the shavings from his thumb with a rag that smelled of stale beer and iron. He was twelve, sharp-tongued, and currently the most unwanted apprentice in the town of Oakhaven, a place where the cobblestones were slick with the damp chill of early autumn and the air tasted of woodsmoke and impending judgment. His...
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