The Pale Exile
The valley of Hunza stretched out below the ice-hauler dock, a fjord of cold water and jagged rock where the wind did not blow so much as it pushed, a physical force that flattened the grass and snapped the thin threads of smoke rising from the cook-houses. It was a place of inherited jobs, where men hauled ice from the glaciers to keep the archives cool, and women wove paper from the pulp of...
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