The Pale Protocol
Act I The valley floor was a badland of eroded clay, carved by centuries of rain into gullies that looked like the dry beds of old wounds, and the only thing moving through the grey morning was the long, slow line of tractors heading toward the town square where the fields were to be divided. Anca Jovanovic sat in the back of the government sedan, her hands resting on her knees, feeling the...
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