The Faded Dust
What remains of a man when the war has taken his name and the land has taken his bones? Chapter One The question hung in the ash-choked air of the ruined plantation house, unanswered by the swallows nesting under the collapsed eaves. Marisol Zamudio, forty-two years old and off duty from her post as a quarantine guard, stood at the threshold of the cellar where the dust had settled into a layer...
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