The Distant Cartograph
The bandages on your left hand are soaked through, a damp, yellowish stain that spreads against the pale cotton like a bruise. You are thirty-two years old, Elias Thorne, a junior surveyor in the employ of the Blackwood Ridge Industrial Trust, and you are currently trying to measure a cliff face that does not want to be measured. The fog in the valley is thick enough to chew, a grey sludge that...
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