The Distant Clue
The mud of the siege line had settled into a thick, grey paste that sucked at Thomas’s boots with every step, a viscous weight that mirrored the sudden, crushing heaviness in his chest. He had been counting the hours since dawn, tallying the slow drag of the sun across the low, overcast sky, when his fingers, numb and stained with ink from the morning’s copying of supply manifests, brushed...
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