The Pale Altar
Who was the first to lie down in the stone and let the hunger in? Milada Navratil woke with the taste of limestone in her mouth, a gritty, chalky film that coated her tongue and numbed her jaw. She was thirty-two years old, a border warden with hands roughened by years of hauling ice and hauling grain, and she lay in a flat that smelled of diesel and thawing earth, the windows frosted over with...
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