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... bending brittle stalks and kicking up clouds of dust. Here and there, the land rose into low, weary hills, bare and wind-scraped, as though the earth itself had grown tired of war and time. Almost dead-center, glinting like a silver serpent, ran the Garthum River...broad, slow, and ancient, its lush banks a green wound in the otherwise colorless plain.
Captain Wilfrid stood atop one such hill, his cloak snapping behind him in the wind. Twenty riders of the Third Spear Cavalry stood nearb ...
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