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... my hips, I turned to admire the wagon train stretching down the mountainside behind me.


Jarrod Redner, who had been walking at my side, put his hands on his knees and gasped for air. “I don’t…understand…why we’re…taking this old…mountain path,” he said breathlessly.


Although I knew he was speaking rhetorically, I answered anyway. “There isn’t anywhere for these people to go in northern Sapin. Valden, Marlow, Elkshire—they can’t support them. The farming villages between ...

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