The Faded River
The mud sucked at your boots with a wet, mechanical persistence, pulling at the soles as if the earth itself were trying to keep you from walking away. You pulled free, one step, then another, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts that tasted of iron and cold silt. The river was high, the water a murky brown that churned against the banks with a low, continuous roar that vibrated in your...
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