The Pale Banner
The cough came first, wet and rattling, filling the small stone cell with a sound like tearing paper. You watched Thomas Bradshaw wipe his mouth, the red smear stark against his pale hand. He looked at you, his eyes hollowed by weeks of fever, and you knew the winter solstice was three days away. Three days until the cold set in deep, and three days until the end, if the old records were true....
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