Prologue They met in ways that broke them first, Each life a thud, a hunger, thirst. Not born to lead, nor raised to shine, But time had worn them past their line. What castaways might find anew— You'll see, if you read all way through. The Mule (Once a Builder) He once laid brick with steady pride, Now drags his boots from site to site. His back's a map of breaks and bends, He buri...

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