The Distant Cartograph
You’re holding the wrong end of the pencil. Katya Popov did not look up. Her hand shook, a fine, violent tremor that made the graphite scratch against the parchment like a mouse gnawing wood. The line she was drawing, the northern boundary of the Popov estate, wavered. It should have been a straight cut across the river gorge, but her fingers betrayed her, pulling the line inward, toward the...
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