The First Migratory Bird
Dr. Julian Ashford's hands did not shake. They had stopped shaking three years ago, in a field hospital outside Verdun, when the morphine ran out and he had to operate on a boy of nineteen with a shell fragment in his abdomen and a mother's voice echoing in his head in a language his mother didn't even speak. His hands were steady now. Surgeon's hands. Precise. Scarred. The kind of hands that...
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