The Distant Wound
Chapter One The shipyard hummed its low, metallic drone through the damp morning, a sound that vibrated in the teeth of every soul in the company town of Corvid Lane. It was a place of scrip and sweat, where the harvest had been good but the prices had collapsed, leaving the air heavy with rust and wet plaster. Rosalie DeClouet, thirty-two and hollow-eyed, stood in the cellar of the ancestral...
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