The Pale Banner
Did you ever hear the fog scream? It was a dry, tearing sound, like canvas ripping down the length of a mast. Zoya Semenov stood in the salt pan, the white crust crunching under her boots, and watched the Pale Banner roll over the railway tracks. It was not a cloud. It was a wall, thick and grey, swallowing the signal tower and the waiting room. She held the small, cold stone in her left hand....
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