The Distant Blade
The frost came in hard that year, biting through the wool of the fishermen’s coats and settling into the joints of the old houses along the coast. It was the kind of cold that made the sea look like hammered lead, a flat, gray expanse that stretched out until it touched the sky. Dimitar Jovanovic stood on the porch of his small cottage, watching the mist roll in from the water. He was...
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