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... with wagons.
They creaked into the forward camp at dawn, wheels clogged with mud, axles groaning under weight not meant for war. Anders watched from the rise above the field, hands clasped behind his back, cloak still damp with morning frost. He had expected scouts. He had expected skirmishers. He had expected screams.
Instead, he saw carts piled with iron tools, sacks of grain, carved bone idols wrapped in cloth, and—most telling of all—children riding atop the loads, wide-eyed ...
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~ Finish this testimonial
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