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Show WORTHING FARM Elijah stood in the dust of Worthing Farm and wiped his hand across the sweat on his face. The dirt on his hand turned to wet clay, but in a moment it was dry again, dust again, and the sweat left on his face was the only moisture in the field. Elijah picked up the empty buckets and walked on to the river. It was a dark world, and the West River flowed from the heart of it through its blackest soil and deepest forest. Once at the east end of the river, and once at the west, cities burst through the ceiling of trees, and here and there the forest was interrupted by a small clearing and a house and a stand of grain. In distant lands cities had stood for centuries, nations had endured and grown and learned to be civilized, but none of this had touched the Forest |