The Faded Root
Chapter One Did the root know it was being watched? Andres Molina asked this aloud to the cellar, his voice sounding hollow against the damp stone. It was 1912, or so the almanac in the village square claimed, though the year felt older, stretched thin by the soot and the silence of the winter camp. Andres was a falconer to a minor lord, a trade that required a steady hand and a quiet eye, but...
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