The Wistful Voyage
The axe bit into the root with a sound like a bone snapping, and the sap that wept from the wound was thick, dark, and smelled of iron. Elias wiped the mud from his trousers, his hands trembling not from cold, but from the sheer, animal terror of watching the foundation of his world being hacked apart. He was twelve years old, though he felt older, weighted down by the knowledge that the...
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