The Golden Suspect
The timber bit into the bone of her left shin, a cold, hard pressure that turned the white of her teeth into a single, rigid line as Amelie Moreau dragged herself forward on her elbows, the mud of the northern ridge slicking against her palms with a wet, sucking friction that threatened to pull her back into the dark earth. She was thirty-two, a border patrol officer of the Copper Age garrison,...
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