The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 13:16:03 -

The Distant Joke

The static in my teeth was worse than the cold. I had walked for three days through the gray, weeping scrubland to reach Oakhaven, carrying the vial of Sun-Root tincture in a lead-lined case against my chest. It was a small glass thing, amber and viscous, meant to cure the wasting sickness that had taken half the children in the valley. I was an apothecary, a scholar of roots and remedies, and...

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