Leathery, dusty and powerful, with a grandeur that feels older than the land itself. It has the Judge's terrible indifference and the scorched air of Blood Meridian's borderlands.
Garrigue, black pepper and sun-baked stone, it tastes like the dust clouds rising behind the Glanton gang. Wild, dark and utterly unsentimental.
A scalp-hunting odyssey across the borderlands written in thunderous, scriptural prose. Violent and vast, it reads like a desert sermon delivered by the devil himself.
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