The Distant Legend
The ledger sat in my left hand, its leather cover slick with condensation, the black ink bleeding through the pages like a bruise under skin. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two, and I have served the border for twenty years. My right hand trembles. It has been shaking for three months, a fine, persistent vibration that makes it difficult to hold a rifle steady, let alone write a report. I want to...
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