The Pale Fracture
The frost had already bitten into the grain, a white web spreading across the stalks, and I was still kneeling in the dirt, my fingers numb to the knuckles as I tried to tie the last bundle. The dream had come again, the one with the path, that long, pale crack running through the stone like a vein of bone, but this time I hadn’t just watched it; I had walked into it, and now the cold in my...
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